The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing–to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from–my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back. C.S. Lewis
We were in a cafe in Derry–cityside, on the main street that slanted sharply upwards and where the rainwater was running down as we sat inside, looking out the main window of the cafe. Both me and my best friend had our laptops, we had plans to work on essays as we tried not to get too distracted by photo editing and talking about our ...