And so to CONNEMARA we drove, not quite anticipating the grandeur in store. if one knows where and how to look, there were a multitude of portals along the way, happy to transport us other realms if we so desired. beginning with an irish tardis, each invitation was gateway to traveling to another part of ireland’s timeline — a decrepit cathedral window here, the underside of a bridge to another world over there — even peeking through the eye of an anchor intended for a chain link to see the light house on the horizon. from the looming presence of christianity on a mountain top to the deeper foundations of spirituality embedded in monolithic rock, this country is steeped in myth and legend. you can almost hear the land and the sea recant the many haunting tales of triumph and woe. and fairytales — don’t forget about those.

and so on and so on throughout our lives this constant taste of bittersweet. true i think of everyone’s lives really as i don’t know many who fancy the heartaches of farewells, whatever their format.