A letter from Paris

Dear friend It has been a while. I truly can't remember the last time we saw each other. Was it that time I came to visit you in Paris? Could it be that long ago? So much has happened since- Love (first for you, then me, then me again), weddings, babies, breakups (just me) and…

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…

I regret nothing

I wanted to write about regret but I didn't know where to begin. Begin at the start then. Where is the start of a regret? Where does it end? I asked myself the question? "What is the one great regret of my life?" But I couldn't pin-point one. Instead many moments, people, places arose before…