Ireland 2

July 30, 2012


Brightest of days it has become. I wandered the alleys of Sligo, quickly recalling the past, adding the present. Visits here are less electrifying now that I’m no longer looking for him, but something’s lost and something’s gained. Serenity is surely gained. Picked up my tickets at the Hawk’s Well, up Harmony Hill and the Lungy, plotting to buy one of the empty houses along Church Street, The fact that I could makes the operation more complicated. Bought American money which had been languishing in the Hawk’s Well till, the lady said, for as long as anybody remembers. Visited the Abbey. I’m not sure I ever had before; maybe I was keeping it for this time. It’s all black stone and brilliant moss and sad sighing from the remembering soil. Many photos with the blue behind it. Down to the river, with the sacred two arches of the old mill. All the buildings they spent so much time building stand empty. One could rent a hundred storefronts and not fill up the vacancies. Went looking for David Roach, found the woman who bought their art store from his mother. She told me a place to put my card that he might see it. Drinks now in the Glass House lounge, its glory, above the sparkling waters. I wish for Sligo, for Ireland, better fortune.