Ireland is my home but it is also the place I have left behind. Now that I have exiled myself from there I appreciate its quirks, its oddities and its unparalleled beauty. It is because of this too that I have come to realise the gravity of my disconnection from Ireland. I have realised it has many aws.
Dominated by con icting ideas and feelings, my love for home is often shrouded in a certain confusion that I cannot fathom, a bewilderment that I cannot put into words. I am constantly uncer- tain of whether or not I want to stay or if I want to go. I return for family, for friends, to revisit memories, to remind myself of the hills, the soil, the rocks, the trees. I leave for the hope and promise of richer, more progressive lands and the opportunities they offer and bring.
This is my ode to Ireland. The land of Saints, Scholars, of turmoil and troubles, the country of a thousand welcomes. A place that is goverened by tradition and a vast, turbulent history. A place where we speak in a language of self-deprecation and idioms. A place where music, art and expression is born. A place where I was born.
This is a story about me and my relationship with Ireland.