(fornighsanfornighsanfornighs(openseyes)fornighsanfornighsanforevers)

and I catch a look at Tommy, and he smiles over at me, and I can see that his eyes are damp, and I slide my arm around his shoulders, at this sad sound of others, out of time but beautiful with each other, and now everybody has joined in, a sound like soft thunder, and the tape is playing the words back as an echoes, as a lingo that has fallen, as words that have upped and fucking died, in Bible time, forever, so no need of books, or storyfications, or words, for that, or for no memories, neither.

*

Behind the black curtains, hanging down, behind the scenes, the bloodied gears. The Swan leads us to a curtained area and down into another basement, into a dungeon lit up with flickering lights, where what appears to be a man – badly beaten and bleeding from the head – is strapped into a chair.

This is an Ouroboros working, The Swan says to us and he points to the figure on the chair. But what is the nature of the work? Tactical magic is the nature of the work. But what is tactical magic? Tactical magic is what is spelled (o-u-t) by the Father. The prisoner’s eyes are sewn shut, he is deliberately blinded. This is the UR-A, The Swan says to us, this is the IRA’s Holy Orders.