dead drunk dublin and other imaginal spaces
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Time slid by when I had nothing to read but façades built up during the Industrial Revolution, sturdy in brick, slow in etched granite, sun brushed by, while inch by inch shadows climbed: Time sliding by, not for a moment ignored nor debased, but valued as yet another series of fragments in living life to the full. Pedestrians below lion’s head cornices & carved-stone, mid-nineteenth-century dates weren’t concerned with keeping track at all.



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