Melting into resistance

Ice cold water, creeping higher up my waist as I wade in deeper. Every inch of this body shouting 'NO'. What the F___? Skin dimpled with the cold. Toes warming with loss of sensation. I'm not in the water though, even imagining it makes me squirm, shiver. At the same time envy, admiration, for those…

A place called home

I stood at the ATM on Capel Street as the afternoon city sailed around me and my old life was so close I could have reached out my hand and touched it. The ghost of me, clip-clopping, latte in hand, in the direction of the river. Or ambling, sleeping sweetness of a baby on my…