The port took the ragged edge off my purple bruises but I had to - TopicsExpress



          

The port took the ragged edge off my purple bruises but I had to angle myself slowly into bed before I was comfortable. We shouldn’t have let Luis drink so much, but Ferdy liked his old seadog tales, didn’t much care if they were fact or fiction. I pulled a pillow over my head to smother their singing. Luis’ Clandestino, and Ferdy’s The Flower of Magherally, then Fado Toninho and Úr-Chill an Chreagaín, Cumha an Fhile and Verde Gaio - the Portuguese and Irish swallowed as one by my American ear. The last I heard was a duet, Little Ole Wine Drinker Me, as Ferdy half carried Luis back across the road, before I tripped into my shaking dreams. Cora with George, Jorginho with Yasmin, Rose with Gallogly. My dreams, and yet I wasn’t in there, just a spectator while real life floated by. There was something wrong with all this. I couldn’t pin it down when I was awake but now, in my sleep, my brain bounced images and sounds, snapped faces and voices, teased with meanings and contorted truths. https://youtube/watch?v=1Pto6YEzF6w
Posted on: Wed, 01 Oct 2014 19:35:11 +0000

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