im/permanence

working with the eternal in a temporal world

In September of 2024, I traveled to ireland

I deplaned at 9:33am Dublin time—18 hours after leaving my studio apartment in San Francisco, and 28 since I had last slept. The airport was largely deserted, but the walk from the gate to the car rental counter gave me a chance to feel the full heft of the backpack I had packed carefully with, I hoped, everything I needed—and nothing I didn’t—for a week in the Irish wilderness. By the time I had the key fob in my hand, my pack in the passenger seat (on the driver’s side), and my rump in the driver’s seat (on the passenger’s side), I could tell I was in no condition to operate heavy machinery. Realizing I hadn’t even bothered to research the road signage of this country I had never been to added a thick layer of uh-oh to my already precarious state. Even if the car were on the (literal and figurative) right side of the road, I should not have been at the wheel. But I was due in Connemara by dusk, and I had only one choice: set out west, and don’t stop.