Category: observations

We fall in love with who we are not, in order to become who we wish to be.

Writing for me is like walking blindfolded along a high-wire. I can see vague shapes through the mask, but I never know whether my next step will carry me forward, or send me plummeting to what I imagine to be a flat and unforgiving ground.

There is Ireland, and there’s the Irish, and then there’s the dreams of their descendants, who know nothing of either, but have the money to pay for a taste of it.