Last time I had dressed visiting my daughter . I did this year, this thin alibi.
But it was too insistent, too often.
I returned to Ireland. Promise me rain, wind, fog and ditches, I do not care. I'm going to Ireland because I can drive five hours and fifty kilometers, and because I can think of the beginnings of the world.
Because it is the only place where it is not ridiculous to shoot sheep.
Because it is a country that man has not completely appropriate, because it tolerates the indifference of the granite and the strength of the sea
Because I wanted a carrot cake's and tea and also a seafood chowder and a Murphy.
Because I have a command of socks from Penneys and if you know what that means is that you're gone.
I'm going with a sleeping bag in my car, a play-list and a map of morkitu rough enough to be able to lose myself. A Canon
, dreams and a little about yourself if you want.
The boat is called the Oscar Wilde.
An excellent opportunity to remember the motto: "I can resist everything . Except temptation."
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