I never really appreciated those Connemara drives with my parents when I was a child, the serpentine twists around hilltops and potholes in the stagnant air of a smoker’s car; I could only… Continue reading

Harley Sparks, March 1st, 2017


There was a stillness in the air there, in the garden that she kept, like the last of its life had faded away, replaced by some form of sadness.