A waltz is stuck in my head. It plays as I walk past tired commuters this morning. Everyone moves in time with the beat. Except for when I pass Lamma’s local three-legged dog, he is completely off. For him, I think I’d need a jig. But I don’t know any jigs. I did watch a good true crime documentary set in West Cork though. And I am really enjoying Sally Rooney’s latest novel. Perhaps the three-legged dog is trying to tell me something: go on and dive into the world of Irish culture already! The waltz comes to a halt just as I sit down to my breakfast of five-spice pork noodles. I open up Beautiful World, Where Are You, I think about Sally Rooney and whether she’s ever danced any jigs before.
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