In Pursuit of Distance

When is a secret no secret at all? Magic — stage magic of the sort that makes elephants disappear — relies on the best efforts of the pyrotechnician and the orchestra and the lighting designer. There is pomp and there is circumstantial evidence of a good time. It’s all quite earnest, quite...

FíorScríobh

Fíor Schríobh is a virtual exhibition on Instagram documenting the fascinating bilingual street signs of Dublin city and shining a light on the beautiful ancient Irish script seen on these signs. The word is pronounced feer-SHCREE-uv in the Irish language (Gaeilge) and means True (Fíor) Script (Scríobh). As the curator...

In Isolation

My room, now that I am in it, is at the front of the house, and directly opposite the Fire Station. Arrivals and departures, noise, flashing lights, hooting alarms, skidding, empty streets, but, still at emergency vehicle pace. Freedom to attend what he thought of as non-first responders’ events. Yet perhaps they were? There are... Continue Reading →

Hagia Sophia

You don’t sing anymoreyour bells don’t ring on Sundaysand your icons don’t chantwhen the dawn returns from its  walk in the darkByzantium is but the shadow of a whisperthat holds your hollow ghost like the dead hold   their bonesyour eyes are dry, for life has escapedthrough cracks that were supposedto show pilgrims parts of a... Continue Reading →

All the Pretty Paintings

So we go to this gallery—me, Marie, the kids—and it’s not only what I expect, it’s worse. Awful, pointless, white. Everywhere white, the art and the crowd.  “Incredible,” says Marie, in her signature monotone, swiveling her head left then right, which means she approves.  “Dumb,” says Mikey, which means that in two minutes flat, he’ll... Continue Reading →

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