At twenty-one degrees Celsius, Máire's blood was still simmering. It did not seem to matter how much or how cold the water, and at that point she must have swallowed an entire well. The fear of drinking too little far outweighed any concern for what might happen as a consequence of drinking too much. And, … Continue reading Where does it end?
Ireland
Céilí
How long had it been? Well, excluding her sister’s wedding, it had probably been about twenty years. This side of Irish culture she dreaded. It sometimes reminded her of the final day of a wake – a social obligation full of decrepit neighbours and relatives inhaling tea and sandwiches. The well laid out corpse of … Continue reading Céilí
Ardent Writing 