Jane Kirwan was born into an Irish family in England, started travelling as a baby, escaped to work in Nigeria, got stuck in London but dragged the poor child all over the world; once the daughter was eighteen she said: I’m off a life in the Czech Republic, without to be honest much thought except desire for a builder. In love with Irish rain and French trains, Jane’s favourite time away has been travelling alone through India. Read or visit her online.
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The bill in question is actually a 2,000 West African franc note, and it’s the equivalent of about four U.S. dollars. A helpful sum, really, but as I clutch the weathered crinkle in my sweaty palm, its value feels as dirty as the grime that is undoubtedly being transferred to my fingers.
to Egg and Berry brewery, to the pack / of Czechy words I made but didn’t work / in this pink town. I’d readily go back / to your best spots, the unfired gun, that perk //
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And if the neap tides of my beauty / sadden him, I cannot help it: / I hang high, the waxy night light …
By Anastasia Vassos
Three thousand ancestors ask how I straddle / the sea, a foot on either shore. //