I remember when I first learned that marvellous, heartbreaking word. It was while reading Le Petit Prince, and the word was “éphémère”. Our teacher helped us grasp the meaning by comparing it to a shooting star in the sky, or a sandcastle on the beach. For the little prince, it was an essential part of a life worth living.
Standing on the coast near our home, watching my daughter draw a castle in the sand, I said the word aloud, and asked her to repeat it. I said the castle she drew was destined to wash away, its beauty short-lived. She said, “Like a shooting star?”, and then, “Why are you crying?”.
Today I taught my child to say “ephemeral”, and we walked in silence home.
Hand-carved tunnels on the border of Kerry.
Filming in an old Manor house today. My work is quite fulfilling.
Beneath giants in winter...
Last autumn, I saw you from the woods.
Dreary day at home today. The weather is atrocious, and that's not hyperbole. Wish I could see the sun again.
Morning view from Kerry.
Very large animals.