{__The Eile Project__}

Experiment #4

In the depths of the sea it had crept into the cruel pot. For hours, in the midst of its enemies, it had breathed secretly. It had survived the Frenchwoman's cat and his witless clutch. Now it was going alive into scalding water. It had to. Take into the air my quiet breath. Belacqua looked at the old parchment of her face, grey in the dim kitchen. “You make a fuss” she said angrily “and upset me and then lash into it for your dinner.” She lifted the lobster clear of the table. It had about thirty seconds to live.
Well, thought Belacqua, it's a quick death, God help us all.
It is not.

Dante and the Lobster, Samuel Beckett


Eile swims with lobsters in the arcane shadows of the Irish sea; outstretched hand touching claw. She listens. These old creatures of the murk and mud with raspy whispers that carry across the ocean like the floating tune of a violin; far below the surf and swell. Their serenading song conjures secrets of ancient images of strange lands where no human-body has seen or been. Their antennae summon a world yet-to-come with an outstretched bow and strings. For these dignified ancients carry a deep knowledge of different times and spaces; they traverse planes and reach through waves for the ocean and her critters care not for borders.

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