The car winds around barely visible tracks in the dry sand. We lose sight of the final buildings prior to the lagoon, tracing out a route between palm trees, sand and sea. After some searching, we come to a fence-line and a rusty, ajar gate. My friend has already disappeared beyond it into the trees... Continue Reading →
Oh what would it be like to live, in a place where sounds of birdsong are louder than those of people? What would it be like?
'Come on Eileen' plays on a stereo in a town where I have never spoken or heard any English. In a nation where I have not met anyone of Anglophone origin in nearly two weeks. The strange is familiar and the familiar strange hearing Dexys Midnight Runners sing Tuh-Rah-Lu-Rah-Tuh-Rah-Luh-Why-Aye in dulset Brummie tones.