“The sun emerged from the fog, forming a perfect white disc; the whole lake was bathed in light. On the horizon, the Twelve Bens Mountains formed a palette of greys like images from a dream. They said nothing. As they came into Galway, Walcott spoke: 'I'm an atheist myself, always have been, but I can understand why they're Catholic here. There's something very special about this country. Everything seems constantly trembling: the grass in the fields or the water on the lake, everything signals its presence. The light is soft, mutable. You'll see. The sky itself is alive.”

—Michel Djerzinski,