“UP THE MOUNTAIN ye were?” the woman said to me. I tried to look at her from the passenger seat, though my glasses were bedazzled with raindrops. “Picked a day for it, too,” I said, and she laughed, and clicked her tongue. She was in her mid-seventies, wearing a corded cream wool sweater andContinue reading “Knocknarae, Or Thoughts on Time and the Irish Sisyphus (A Hitchhiker’s Guide)”
