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