Kinked medieval streets twist bad and forth like the path of a deranged sandworm, their looming stone sides so near to one another than I can nearly reach out on both side at once and touch them. Or so I think. I shiver and step faster.
Galway’s shrunken since I was here last. The quiet Irish boy went off to the big metropolis in the desert and came home a weary-eyed man. In my walk around the city center today, I saw all of the same faces I’d known before I left. All the old businesses are mostly still there and for every new detail to catch my eye, ten hadn’t changed at all. Except Currys, which while having had a real spiffy remodeling, had posters blazoned with a Union Jack all over the front. *wince* Great. What mook ordered those put up? Shop Street is the same. Quieter and sadder, somehow, but the same.
My big question during the walk was ‘now what?’ My whole life has undergone a sea change and beyond the immediate needs of work I need some kind of goal.
Suggestions on a postcard to…