Lyrical piece about (a basically married) Joyce having the hots for one of his young students in Trieste–a bit icky, but we'd expect nothing less. 

This was not intended for publication, but saved by his brother Stan and published post humously. 

Beautifully written like all of Joyce. 

The imagery is stunning. As ever, Dublin somehow manages to be a leading character with Nora Barnacle lingering in the background too.