Out of the blue, I had a conversation with an old friend from high school, someone that I've rarely spoken to in the past decade. Part of it went like this:
Her: It's funny how life works...
...and how previous encounters prove themselves useful in the future…
...and how previous encounters prove themselves useful in the future…
Me: Well then, I look forward to our future encounters...
Her: Same here... who knows, maybe we will meet in Ireland on someone's grave… by chance...
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I don't really know where that comment came from, since I don't think she knows about my predilection for graves, but it got me thinking about an old grave I had seen in Ireland, how mystical of a place it is for me, and how it seemed perfect for such an encounter. Odd too that it comes up just a week before the day when I left Ireland seven years ago (May5), which would put it no more than a few days away from when I actually made the trip to this grave.
I scanned the photos onto my computer from old film, which is why they are scratched and oddly saturated. It oddly fits my memory too, imperfectly captured and over saturated to try and make it feel as good as it looks in real life…
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On a hill aching to be a mountain in Dalkey, on the outer edge of Dublin Bay, back in 2004 when I was a boy a long way from home. From the summit, near an obelisk erected in memory of Queen Victoria, I had a special spot all picked out to sit and think, and from there, several times a week for four months, I would do just that. From that perch, barely visible down the side of the hill, is what looks like a grave.
The only trouble was that there was no way to get to it; whatever it was appeared to be surrounded on all sides by the thorny shrubs that give Dalkey its name (from the Gaelic – Deilginis – Thorn Island).
