Pool_2

All these men, or Da? Home is strong. Home is what grounds. But poison in the air was everywhere. Drifting is easy in Belfast. Catholics were inherently evil. No? All they wanted was to destroy. Right? They had no calling other than Vatican oppression over children of the rightful British empire. Obvious. Gotta keep those fuckers in their place. "Ian, wanna come? We're going raiding tonight! You can eat a house." He ignored those timidly teasing offers, but they thought that they could see that he was unsure and vacillating more in their direction. At least, he seemed to be listening more. Or was he just sizing up potential enemies? Maybe Da was naive, an honest man honestly wrong. Ian, by his very nature, might have been more quickly swayed to intolerance. But his sister's friend, the poet, made him laugh and Ian never laughed. Gavin was not what the tradesmen were describing at all. Since Ma died, Ian's bond to his sister only grew. Bottom line, whoever - whatever - Katherine wanted, that is who and what Ian wanted. God help any mortal who didn't share her want. "Process, Ian." Staying out of the workings to free his sister was more than he could bear. But Da, captive of faith and hope, indoctrinated by phraseologies of government, insisted, "Process, Ian. We must go through process." But Da was weakening, withering from years of tortuous absence of process. Letters were written, letters, letters and more letters always with questions. But there were no answers. Ian only wrote one letter. The questions were there, but he sought no answers. If you read beyond his words it was clear. His time, repressed by ages of pseudo civility, had come - again.