Irish Journal
“He might have been sitting there in exactly the same way three hundred years ago; the fact that he was smoking a pipe made no difference: it required no effort to transpose the pipe, the lighter, and the Woolworth cap into the seventeenth century; the old man pulled them in his wake, as well as the movie camera which George had stowed carefully away in the bow of the boat. Hundreds of years ago ballad singers, itinerant monks, had probably landed in this harbor just as we were doing; the old ma...n raised his cap—his hair was white, fluffy, and thick—he made our boat fast, we jumped ashore and, smiling at each other, exchanged the “lovely day”—“nice day”—“wonderful day,” the highly complicated simplicity of greeting in countries where the weather is always threatened by rain gods, and as soon as we set foot on the little island it seemed as if time closed over our heads like a vortex. The greenness of these trees and meadows defies description; they throw green shadows into the Shannon, their green light seems to reach up to the sky where the clouds have gathered round the sun like patches of moss; this could be the scene of Danae and the shower of gold.MoreLess
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