Traditions, Hauntings, and Home.

stories from near and far....

Dear pals,

Summer has melted into autumn, and autumn is taking flight — packing its bags and leaving, before we’d had a chance to kiss goodbye. Seasons are something quite special aren’t they? Even if our seasons, here in the Clare, have been ever so seamless, almost transparent this year. (An abundance of temperate warmth, never too hot nor cold, bright orange in leaf and sun, drifting off and dozing into autumn by the wink of a wind).

How are you feeling on this damp October day?

The night-walls are beginning to drift inward, and I’ve been fantasising about what it would be to be an actual, living-dead ghost. To be able to shift through walls, or change your form, or just quite simply haunt mere shadows and mortals. I was a ghost in the school play back when I was 16, dressed in a skirt made of white schoolshirts, and haven’t been able to step fully out of character since.

Hallowe’en is heavy upon us now, but the veils are getting increasingly thin, our world divided, all the more, between hard reality, object, desire, and ghostly possibility…..