Ennis faces & Limerick laces
This article narrowly avoided being called ‘Blood, sweat and tears’.
Last Sunday morning, I wandered through Ennis.
The streets were empty.
By midday, men began to materialise from the walls and half formed, they smoked with stony faces.
By 1 o’clock, Sunday service had ended at the leafier end of town and a little knot of old women were discussing a stray cat which had appeared from the bushes.
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