Meath.

Last night we walked beside the castle in the twilight. It was down a trail swarming with midges that we went, next to a river full of furrows where the water folded over rows of invisible rocks; fish flashing white, springing out of the water to snap air. The castle was illuminated by tinted artificial lights, making the walls look green as if mossy. The sunset turned some nearby ruins pink. It was not cold.

We walked for quite a long time as the sky grew darker, and, unexpectedly, we reached a priory built in 1202. The roof was missing and the walls crumbling. It was still and perfect. Graves cluttered around it, as if they had grown there with the tall grass and grabbing nettles and bent trees. I sat on a decaying old headstone and looked at the outline of a cross against the flat blue-toned sky, feeling the darkness around me and the sense of space and quiet.

On Sunday we went into Dublin to see Mariee Sioux play at a bar called Anseo. We walked through Temple Bar and it was transformed, full of music emanating from the pubs and tourists and buskers bustling about on the streets. A guy screaming out The Auld Triangle; someone singing Mustang Sally. We walked and walked and walked.

Yesterday we went and gave the donkeys some carrots. I like the donkeys. One of them is very friendly. I ate some vegan chocolate and did not do much else. I do not want to go.