![]() ![]() He stopped for a moment and stared at the forge, all rebuilt in brick with a full load of work. Was Derry all of Ireland in reality? Was it the end of the line? Mick would have his go and perhaps return with enough reflected glory to fill him for a lifetime. He had become defeated by his own success and each new evidence of that success added weight to the millstone. Those rows of half-tumbled shacks, the muddy streets, the desperation to avoid sinking, the despair that sapped any zest for life. He tried to keep the peace he bad found, but the life pattern warned him off. ![]() ![]() Letters from Seamus O'Neill had been a conduit to the outside world, taunting him. One by one they left, all the lads who had an iota of spunk, unwilling to settle for the upper level of stagnation. ![]()
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