Having my way with Ulysses

Stuck on the pane two flies buzzed, stuck.

• Lestrygonians

What he does feel is the hard iron of the nails. He is not a Roman, not a Greek. He wimpers. He has left us some splendid metaphors and a doctrine of forgiveness that can do away with the past. (That phrase was written by an Irishman in prison.) The soul searches for its end, hurriedly. Night has fallen. He has died now. A fly crawls over the still flesh. Of what use is it to me that this man has suffered if I am suffering now?1:53 pm

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Intercourse, eyeball to eyeball.