dedalus Posted July 25, 2010 Share Posted July 25, 2010 This will be the last poem, you'll be pleased to hear, until I return from Ireland in September! Life on the Run Danny C. of the IRA, at a pub in Ennis (2009) When your life is collapsing on all fronts, there are two things you can do: stay put or leave. One is only marginally better than the other, since no matter where you run, they’ll find you. I belong to the stay-put faction, finding a simple change of address works better than reinforced steel doors, better than expensive firearms. A few fake IDs and prepaid phones meshes well with favours owed; but, you know, you can never trust them, even ‘friends’ will sell you out in a flash for fear or favour. Even lads from the county succumb to dark and unknown pressures. It is usually better to virtually disappear, avoid all meetings, drop off the radar, until you get a sense of the situation, figure out how serious they really are. Then you start to move against them. Your second ID, the greatest risk, is the key to all the other IDs, the stash of cash in various bank deposit boxes and your ticket out. Avoid all airports and do ferry crossings, not with hitchhikers, but with a rented single mother and child. She’ll do anything, poor cow, for 500 quid plus expenses, one day’s work, and even wonders why you don’t want to sleep with her. That would be exploitative, unkind: easy enough, aye, but contrary to the principles of revolution. And, of course, there’d be the child to think of. Quote Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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