by Derek Flynn
I heard a Ruts song on the radio last night and thought of you. You were an exchange student, only over here for six months. We met when I was busking on Grafton Street. I sang “Simple Twist of Fate” and you said it was your favourite song. You went to throw me some money but accidentally threw me a dollar.
As far back as I can remember, dusk and then finally twilight always held a mystical essence for me. My child’s mind was filled with make-believe and possibility, but the central element to most of my vivid imaginings occurred during the twilight hours which then cascaded into the darkest parts of night. I was never afraid, for this was the time that my imagination would burst with endless possibilities of fairies and sprites, brownies, and otherworldly creatures who would come alive when mothers and fathers tucked their littlest in for the night.
