A peat fire warms a pub in Kilkenny as The Beach Boys “Sloop John B” blares in the background, a song about wanting to go home. The woman next to the fire reads her newspaper and steals bites of dinner in between stories. Her glasses rest on the lower end of her nose as her plate of food goes flying due to an accidental elbow. She doesn’t bat an eyelash at her mistake and continues to read the evening news. I sit on the other end of the fire, eating crispy fish and chips. Suddenly I realize being alone in a pub is a good thing. You can observe the soul buried in her literature, the family Continue Reading