In town, by the canal. Vodka buzz. Birds perched on wires like ink silhouettes. Etchings against the sky. Used to stop and linger over sights like this. Used to look at them and not think anything, just let the image look into you. Sights like this, this small gap between Kinlough rooftops threading birds on a wire, how these moments imprinted themselves on you as a kid, when you were young enough that the rain on the cobblestones with the music in your headphones and a few dark birds on a wire would re-map your imagination, how moments like this conjured the coordinates between which your
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