Dedicated to:
Aidan Sweeney 1928-1966
Imelda Gallagher 1940-1986
Helen McSweeney 1931-1997
Colin Gruzd 1950-2010
Luckless in love, lost in words, Nolan Kennedy got on the train at Istanbul and rode it toward Warsaw. He wore a face, he often got a feeling, that was not entirely his. It would change as he shuttled through the Balkans and got a sense of its history, people’s lives falling to pieces leaving the rest of the world with the cursed poetry of it. History to Kennedy was like one of those suburban houses, innocuous on the outside, where axe murders took place.
(Nick Sweeney, Laikonik Express)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Fh9se-j-SY
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