April is the cruelest month.<\/p>\n
Bitter rain, bitter wind in the face, grey skies obliterating the spire of the Empire State Building.<\/p>\n
It’s the weather where I feel most like myself. I wake up, hear the rain on the window, and think: Ahhhh. That’s more like it.<\/p>\n
None of this harassing sun. None of this tormenting brightness. Wrap me up in grey and I feel like a million bucks. Perhaps it’s a leftover, or a cultural memory, or something like that … ancestors from County Mayo, a land of brown and grey.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
April is the cruelest month. Bitter rain, bitter wind in the face, grey skies obliterating the spire of the Empire State Building. It’s the weather where I feel most like myself. I wake up, hear the rain on the window, … Continue reading