March 9, 2016:
A jumping rose on satiny breast of satin, rose of Castile.
Piled up in cities, worn away age after age.
Dogs licking the blood off the street when the lord lieutenant's wife drove by in her noddy.
Corpse brought in through a secret door in the wall.
Come out and live in the graveyard.
Damn dangerous thing.
Times of the troubles.
Well, well.