irish memories

Each time I come back from staying in Ireland, I come back a better man.  Every time I step back a moment, I step forward two or three times mightily.

Ireland and its people, more and more, save me from what came before.

I must listen to this call, and do something to remedy the distances between my presences here.

And as I sit in Dublin airport, waiting to return to what I have called my place of berth for too long, I realise that a city can indeed speak to you, and when it speaks with love you understand your duty and pleasure to listen.

To listen, and take note.  To take note, and to love back.  To comprehend that not all places are equal for me; and that – also – not all people either: some folks are now manifestly better for my life to flourish and grow, and be the man I must become, than the past would have said.

And that those people, that person maybe too, clearly I have met and begun – in some way – to know closer in this land of truths.




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