I never saw horses running before I came to this island. A season of movement seems to want to hum. Fragments of an original language making songbirds out of paper–you will want to touch them. In between marks, the space of the body. If there was something broken, all that time it was just our heart. What’s not to love about this kind of looking?
I spent an afternoon with this radiant collection. I didn’t want to put it down. Give this book to yourself. For more on Éireann Lorsung, look here.