A marvellous and moving story by Nexis Pas, Fáinne Geal an Lae:
David and I talked for hours that night about ourselves and our lives and our hopes. We were still young enough to think that words alone are enough to give castles in the air a solid footing on the ground. I never opened the book on the Merchant Taylors’ Company. We actually didn’t even drink that much. We sat on the floor with our backs against his bed and our legs extended across the rug. After a few hours he turned out the light. The noise of the traffic in the street outside his back window gradually died. Until midnight or so the sound of a someone’s footsteps on the staircase would occasionally interrupt our murmurings. After that we had the world to ourselves.
And my review of the masterly novel, Map of the Harbor Islands by J G Hayes:
“He knows the secret names. He says this beach right here is the Pepperminty Coast”
[. . . .]
Jesus. It couldn’t be Petey. He’s 5,000 miles and 4 years and too many unsaid words away from me. But it must be – who else?
Mussy hair from the sea wind’s hands, and I’m blue. Home again, sea green Home again and soon to be with Petey. Is it four years? Or five?
