'OK - it's not Banquo who fucks things up, it's MacBeth,' said Blaise. He too was chewing at the stem of a piece of grass now, biting fragments off it and spitting them out. 'We are all like a man rowing a boat. We have our backs to the way we're going. We can't look ahead, can't see the future. All we can see is the past behind us.'
'Very good,' said Kavanagh. 'But not so the canoeist.' They all laughed.
Blaise joined his hands and cradled them behind his head and said, 'Where do you think we'll be three or four years from now?'
'What a crass question,' said Martin.
'It'll be easier looking back. Three or four years from now you'll say - remember that day we mitched off to the Waterworks.' They thought about this in silence. Clouds covered the sun and their shadow could be seen moving on the hills. The water sounded continually at the lake edge.