TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: profile
On Instagram, my friend has been posting extracts from an essay I wrote on the photographs she takes on her walks around Galway at night. Yesterday, in a field inhabited by two horses and a pony, shining white in the sunshine, a buzzard flew, from telephone post to fence to tree. Passing trees heavy with elderflower blossom, I felt the energy of the season in a way I haven't felt in years. After all that death and long periods of inertia, I feel renewal fizzing in my veins.