A Swedish man asked me would I bring a group of his friends around the roads and tell them stories. Things I remember, characters I have met, the places and faces that make up the heartbeat of a town, the social archive, the nuances and nostalgia, that colour the light and shade that life's rich tapestry invokes. I write about memories. I wrote my own and my Mother Siobháns story in Scourged , a memoir - where memories unspooled and unribboned from her mind became copper fastened in mine. So I thought it would be lovely to tell the men the old stories of long ago when I was young, and remember those who went before us, and the legacy they left. He mentioned idly that there would be paper folding money involved. I was in like Flynn. I offer you this time not text, but images ..........as a picture speaks a thousand words. A Jemmy to start A breath of air The welcome Nervous as young foals the pack leave the Inn...
One day, you'll just be a memory to some people. Do your best to be a good one. See the link below for more info.
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www.ufgop.org