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It didn’t take long for this group to find itself in a pub in Galway. The pub was The Quays (pronounced like “keys” and rhymes in Irish poetry with “today’s” and “always.”) The decor of this pub is one part Gothic cathedral and one part shipwreck. Colored glass blocks are set in the floor and…
We reached Ireland in the dark before the dawn, flying over the towns of Doonaha, Kittish, Knock and Kilmurry McMahon. The little villages looked like light-up models of neurons–a central nucleus with branches in five or seven directions, connected to other village neurons by a ganglia of early morning motor cars. I imagined a parade…
This is as good a place as any to start the story: thirty thousand feet over Atlanta and about to begin our descent to Hartsfield-Jackson. My legs are griping from five hours tucked under the seat and I’m too bored to spit. What do I expect from this trip? I’d like nothing more than to…
