It’s

It's three p.m. on a Thursday in St. Stephen's Green and it's sunny - so ridiculously sunny for Dublin that everyone's out and everyone's in shirtsleeves and everyone's on the grass and someone, some bold someone, is smoking pot; it floats on by in a sour whiff and Em and I remark on the absolute

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Pregnant

On the platform of the Q train, heading out to Queens. A crush of people; all of us staring down the train tracks. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I think that girl pregnant. I turn to my left and it's a middle-aged woman; short sandy-colored hair and a soft Eastern European accent. Smiling at me, speaking in

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Breaking Ground

25 degrees today - pure joy! - and caught sight of my first tourists; ill-fitting clothes, foreign faces, and blank expressions. It shocked me that they were so easily identifiable; makes me wonder how clueless I seemed last summer when I arrived myself. But they're breaking ground on the beach now - resurrecting the summertime

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