It’s morning, mere hours after sunrise. The light washes, with the tide, over Balbriggan beach. And I’m there, one eye on the time, the other ‘I’ on something transcending it. The ‘I’ wishes I could stay. Instead, it boards a train and silently glides south as both the sight, and the possibility, disappear from view. But never from memory.

By Emma Hynes
www.emmahynes.net
Twitter: @ELHynes
Facebook: @EmmaHynesWrites
Instagram: emmalouhynes