pte
ing for money. My appearance was horrible, as if I were a doll placed on a stage to b
money to buy a sandwich. I felt guilty for letting Rachel do the dirty work.
played "Knocking on Heaven's Door" by Guns and Roses. Those were good times, but I felt it was time for me to leave. I knew my real family was far away,
ould you still be playing? I feel good, I'm reluctant to play music, bu
are. You're more worried about what they might think. That's
a two-headed mon
ll me Greg, stop that
hords and, as we
buy that pl
If you're broke, I can pay for your trip. I don't want
ing into a homeless program will only
ng. 'Wouldn't you like to get a cont
dding, right,' I sai
Anna, it's in
..
orry I can't accommodate you. My house is full and I
er m
as if my body were painted on a concrete canvas? I would resist, at least
though she responded in monosyllables,
going to be all right,'
with her magn
she merely
, chooses the material. Some destinies, like that of the reserved Rachel, have their lives made of hemp and wool. Others are left with gold and silk. Laquesis is the one who moves the wheel. I won
es looking for cigarette butts. Sometimes he disappeared. When I
ome bread a
sustained that nightmare, giving
. We had gigs at Temple Bar and Flanneries. By day I would stand in an inconspicu
ed by a dj. It was then that I stared at one of the tables. Three couples were sharing kisses, laughter and beer. Monica and an unfamiliar girl, Jack and Erika, Beth and a tall guy I barely
it to me. It had to be something clean. Huddled in the tent, I imagined I was traveling on a carpet over the clean Dublin sky, measuring the dividing line of the River Liffey, the one that split the city in two halv
h new performance, which was preceded by a shower at the town hall facility. It cleansed my