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Until The Heat Leaves

A very welcome, new, meditative piece from the exceptional Irish writer, Chris Connolly

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by Chris Connolly, for outsideleft.com
originally published: January, 2016
Until The Heat Leaves

Until the Heat Leaves

Imagine some old fashioned cottage set alone in some desolate countryside, and imagine some peat smouldering in the fire and a woman sitting comfortably beside it in her usual armchair, gazing as usual at the peat being just slyly licked by a floundering flame, the woman peaceful, comfortable, thinking about nothing much at all - not about a life fully-lived or not, nor about life itself; not thinking thoughts at all in keeping with the import of the moment.

The woman is a very old woman.

Embers glow fiery and red and then grey until the heat leaves them and they turn to ash and it leaves them when it leaves them, the heat, when it leaves them.

Which is all there is to know, really.

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Chris Connolly

Chris Connolly writes from Dublin, Ireland. Allegedly he is not as dangerous as he reads. His first collection of short stories, 'Every Day I Atrophy' (the SideCartel) is available now. If you need to know more about Chris Connolly, he has an excellent and excellently informative website here chrisconnollywriter.com

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