Never mind the strangers
2002-09-09 || 8:47 p.m.

There�s a beautiful place right on the west of Ireland overlooking the Atlantic ocean. The coastline is rocky and rugged and there�s this little bit of land that juts out over the ocean and it has a graveyard on it. There are just rows and rows of Celtic crosses. It�s the loveliest place. Can you imagine being buried somewhere so peaceful? There�s this place called the cliffs of Moher. It�s the windiest place I�ve ever been. The spray from the sea is lifted upwards so it looks like backward rain. To look over the edge I laid right down on the ground and edged forward. It makes you feel alive. There was this woman called Maura Ruha who married an Englishman but she was a true Irish woman and she lured him to his death on the cliffs of Moher. He was captivated by her and followed her on horseback. She knew just where to turn back but he didn�t and he crashed to the waves below.

There's a place called the Burren. Its rocky and grassy and has ancient burial mounds. Rebecca laid down on one and stretched her arms above her heads and I took a photo of her. As you stand in the Burren and look up you see brick snakes curling up the hills around. These are the famine walls. During the famine in the 1840's, there was no food, so the English landlords paid the locals one penny a day to build pointless walls that snake up the hills. The people were so hungry they would eat grass. Many died. The poignancy and pain of these walls should be seen by all.

I would like to go there again one day.