I want to be that girl on the telly, you know the one with the bicycle. You know the one who for some reason on her period wants to wear her white short shorts to go with her belly top.The tiny tops that show off her non bloated stomach as she goes go for a... Continue Reading →
Where does it end for us, the women of Ireland?
It ends in a named grave, It has ended in unmarked graves of the past . Our names end up hidden in filing cabinets, Or in an archived email folder. Lives ended in laundries, They began and then again ended in the same laundries. We are left to travel outside of our homeland on planes,... Continue Reading →