Convergence in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man As far as portraits go, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce is quite dynamic. Stephen is constantly on the move, hurtling through life. He sees, smells and touches everything around him. But I would like to focus on one of the quietest moments: a moment of convergence. The narrative encloses Stephen in a cloud of his past, present and future as he stands in a Dublin courtyard: he began to bang the frayed end of his ash tree against the base of the pillar. Hadn't Cranly heard that? Yet he could wait. His talking ceased for a moment: and a low hissing fell again from an upper window. But there was no other noise in the air and the swallows whose flight he had followed with inactive eyes were asleep. [1]Stephen's impatience melts as his silent thoughts replace whatever he was about to say to Cranly. He closes his senses to his companions, to the sound of birds roosting in the yard and the rattling of the streets. He only hears "a slight hissing sound." This is the point of intersection for Stephen and for the narrative itself. Stephen remembers a quiet moment of prayer "in a wood near Malahide" - the past. Think of Emma walking through the streets of Dublin leaving a trail of reverent silence. She is the present. Stephen bangs an ash tree—a handy prop for a poet—against a pillar and decides he can wait. Darkness is falling: it's almost tomorrow, almost the future. This moment of quiet convergence for Stephen is a point of intersection for the reader: past, present and future meet in a dark Dublin courtyard. Joyce incorporates several layers of his own creation into the scene – he draws on his "Epiphanies" and gives Stephen a prop to bring into Ulysses. In the fifth chapter of the novel, Joyce sets up this meditative moment for Stephen, making him remember a quiet moment of prayer from his past: . . he had dismounted a squeaky borrowed bicycle to pray to God in a forest near Malahide. He had raised his arms and spoken in ecstasy to the gloomy aisle of trees, knowing he was on holy ground and in a holy hour.