made strong by the flesh of their own fathers.

maybe they consumed each other’s dreams too.
and that is how you survive a place that wants to kill you.
subsisting off of the hopes of those before and after.

I do not profess to be made from any material as beautiful;
I am only the working man’s wood.

I have peered over the edge of the Cliffs of Moher in to the expanse of Galway Bay. I have run barefoot across sharp rocks and jumped headlong in to the Aegean Sea, thrice, after being immersed in the hot springs of Eftalou.