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We chose not to hurry to sadness and so took the old road yesterday. The one which was the only one when we were new.

The island may never have looked better, long shadows and trees ablaze in the seasons’s first turning.

The road boasts beautiful place names: Abbeyleix, Durrow, Rathcormac, Fermoy – the substrate language worn smooth as pebbles by long use and salt tears.

A pint and chips at Horse and Jockey.

The old road sits higher than the new and the distant Galtees rose steadily on the horizon. At Cashel, the Rock loomed stark in the pristine Autumn light before we were reminded again of the country’s gift for small, proud towns.

Journey’s end. And the city was again like the first time, the sunset alive in its waters.

Also … Cork City – Not Coming from Anywhere.

Image: Cork City at dusk. © Jamie O’Sullivan https://unsplash.com/photos/white-and-black-boat-on-dock-during-sunset-WAh9lIRcVaU