Friday, November 26, 2010

Living Room Color Mustard Yellow

Voices from moorland




* I recently received the following letter from my brother Dario, who moved to Derry now. Here she tells me of a walk on the moor, to Fort Greinan between Buncrana and Derry.

Mucker!

Dear Mark,

what's the craic? Halloween has its fires burned down and here is the real winter ...

Because the weather is depressing came to me wanted to tell you st'estate did a lap.

Carmela Pablo and I decide to take a ride in the countryside, on foot. We are all really taken, Roury told us "go and follow that road there we Irish walk faster than you we make it in two hours you in five." We organize and set off but there's mist Pablo, our guide, says that the weather holds, I told an old Carmela confirmation of Buncrana and on the other hand, she said the old woman Sandinos. Backpack and humus sandwich direction Greinan Fort, an ancient Celtic ruins, to say all of Pablo laundry below. Tombs, ancient walls, a fountain. It lies between here and Buncrana. Pablo goes crazy for Buncrana. He also lived when he was still a foreigner here.

After two hours of country we are asked to make an old-time, Pablo for a while 'is not only talking about the old and the old consoles us: it does not rain and the strong just two hours. Needless to say, you see 'there is hill and you reach the top split in two hours. We are all excited, Pablo takes pictures as if he had his finger automatic, and I guess I have been catapulted into the realm of Avalon is that crows and fog and you do not see a soul in the middle of the moor. Carmela is excited and happily trots, attentive to the holes, I say, that the moor is plagued start and needless to say he stumbles and falls in one of those ditches full of water called " pit" . So bring bad luck! She said.

The fort is a ring of walls and inside you snack, then off again. Quite an experience, a five-hour journey, needless to say quell'impunito of Roury was right, we realize that the way we've stretched to three hours. Beautiful countryside of Donegal, heck, I take a damn if I go back there!

And what a beautiful summer ... cold, wind, rain, only two days of sunshine!

I remember that made warmer in late May, the past week in Brook Park ... always a tremendous sun finally broke the constant cloud cover Irish, always ready to shower down like rain, the Irish Menan hands. We were just in jeans, of course we were all well equipped with beer ... Lorenzo then began to slip and I remember those guys who were going to get us the stones. At the end of that week I found myself just tanned.

Yesterday, I get a text from Luke, that friend of yours, which is: there's Patti Smith in front of me at San Severino, you are drinking a beer, what? I do ...? I replied to ask if he wants to revive the sad scene Marche with the true punk rock of yore, and even organize a party and told him not ... Then I told him to sign a bell'autografo flaws maybe take a picture and get to kiss sbirrazzato on beard. You were there? Did you see? Okay that is a genre that, with you, little quail. If you see my number from Derry, come here, you never know!

Mucker, it's time to go ... Some students are comin 'soon!

See ya!

Dario, your bro.

Greinan Fort on the hill between Buncrana and Derry. The pink you see is the heather moorland of the queen. The white things are, of course, sheep.

*

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