The shadows of autumn, cast by the lowering sun, are getting longer. It’s a warm, early September evening and I’m alive, running through the streets of Galway to the beat of music in my headphones. The music is irrelevant; all that matters is that it complements my inexorable desire to run.
It’s Saturday night and dusk is slowly descending. I run along Lough Atalia. Cars waft by me. As I pass the Harbour Hotel, painted, scantily clad women are chatting and puffing on cigarettes as I glide past them. The smell is mixed with weird smelling perfume and it offends my senses even though I used to smoke myself. They stand clumsily on high heels which I’m sure will prove an increasing impossibility as the night progresses and alcohol seeps into their brains, dampening their souls. Doubtless, some of them will end up in the arms of complete strangers for one night only, as the saying goes. One or two of them eyeball me with emotionless expressions. For some reason I think of seals lying lazily on a beach. Continue reading “Alive”