54 or 12? London, England, February 2018

Stepping off the Eurostar from Paris to London, my feet touch the pavement at St. Pancras International Station and I am home. I feel it in my bones. Ancestors breath pulsing through concrete flooring. My deceased Dad of 11 years whispering my name, “Sharon Anne, my wee ShaSha, we’ve more to discover.” It’s a paradox…

5 weeks in France, Part 2 – Patterns Below my Feet

5 weeks in France, Part 2 – Patterns Below my Feet I have this thing with floors. Actually, I have this thing with what’s below my feet. I’ve noticed this for a long time. It’s not a new thing. I find myself wearing shoes/soles that reflect my soul. “Travel by foot. There is so much…

Land of Eire

  Passing through portals                                      I am met by six legged creatures and my father’s voice whispers on the wind, ‘No wonder you’ve always loved mystery.’   Ancient ancestors from the Heaney clan call my name as their…