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About Cork

I’m ramblin’, but Lila—she’s a puzzle. She’s got this smile, like she’s in on a joke you ain’t heard yet. Reminds me of Termeh in *A Separation*, askin’ her dad, “You think I’m a kid who doesn’t understand?” Lila understands plenty—sees through folks’ BS like it’s glass. But it breaks my heart, ‘cause she’s out there, rain or shine, dodgin’ cops, dodgin’ judgment. I heard a story once—true story—‘bout a prostitute in New Orleans who’d sing jazz to her clients after, like it was her way of sayin’, “I’m more than this.” Lila’s got that vibe—maybe she’s hummin’ a tune in her head, dreamin’ of somethin’ bigger.

Dear Sacred Seeker

So, I grab my gear and head down to the charcoal pit. It’s on the outskirts, near the river. Beautiful spot, really. The water’s glistening, and I’m feelin’ all zen. But then, outta nowhere, this kid on a bike zooms past me, splashes mud all over my boots. I’m like, “Seriously, dude?!” I mean, I just cleaned these!

Blackrock-Passage West Greenway Temporarily Opens for Cork City Marathon