Making A Horse Sleigh

A few stops and notes to myself.

Here, I told myself that come all the way to photograph old hulls still was making fun of the world. But the light had done so much for the eye.


Here I dreamed the people I love until the sea licking my feet.


Here I thought I had definitely a special attraction to the ends of the world.


Here, I drank my Red Rebel reading Flannery O'Connor, who is not Irish, but American and I do not know anything. Writer of great force, one of those ladies whose cruel and mocking the literature English seems to have the inexhaustible secret.

I was good in O'Shea and I was welcome. Jeremy has been paid to pose with a kindness almost disinterested. It cost me a chaste kiss on the cheek and a compliment incomprehensible Gaelic in the ear. This was, in fact, infinitely more moral than to drink a beer again. It made history day, and mine ...


Notes to myself:
1) Anita, which makes the sealing of your shoes, it's not just the manufacturing process, but the fact that you think of the tie. It avoid you another humiliating dissociation in a bog.
2) You start to find it easier to roll left and right, you find normal to drink a beer in the afternoon and you with the bib sizes lovable drunks from the pub. Check the date on your ticket back and think of your children.