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After Tim Robinson’s Time in Space

i.m. Máiréad Andrew McNeillie and Tim Robinson at Roundstone, March 2001 After the obituaries, the éloges and sail-shaped remembrances. After the crowds have left on the boat and the pollution of their footfall dies away with the evening. After autumn’s equinox begins the purer dream of winter – that’s when to settle in to work and when I’ve thought of you most often, in the capital of monochrome, at Fearann an Choirce, in your storm-walled house with its empty window-frame, overlooking the west. And after all now, I find myself thinking of you all the time – bald, and silent as a Buddha as you’ve become, staring from a photo on my wall, from the night we first met, as…

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