The Gelosi Project
It’s the silliest thing. Traveler’s disease. I can’t get Ireland out of my head. It’s there. It probably looms larger than it was. But I think of it – browse through my photos, read my journal, ruminate. It’s kind of in the veins, and not in the poignant, saccharine way. I don’t imagine woolen sages. I think of the grit and the grist and the glorious will of the place. I’m making it more than it is in my mind, but I willingly do so.