THE SALVAGERS

Everything seems larger in the small hours of the night. Empty cathedrals tower and loom over me as I stroll the alleys and streets, their dark shadows flickering like fingers, pointing out the doors to the abyssal void in the corners where the downtrodden take refuge in their short-lived slumbers. I walk past, not wanting to disturb their rest, for I’ve heard their lives are often fleeting in Cork. Some meet their end at the point of a needle or from the last drop of a bottle, some at the bottom of a bridge, and a few at the end of a fist.

As they slumber, exploring the nooks and crannies of their dreams, I turn the corner to the quay along the river. There are no people of my kind here, only a solitude of crows along the stone facade separating the river from the refuse-littered sidewalk. These crows have a life all their own, bouncing about in the things left behind by strangers, salvaging what they may.

One of them moves in front of me, as if to ask for a toll. I have nothing but my wallet and a passport with me at the time, so I walk around. But a piece of lint falls out of my pocket, and the crow picks it up and flies off, at peace knowing it has more material to build a nest.

I walk over the River Lee across one of Cork’s many bridges. A man on the corner asks me if I have any change. I say I don’t, but then he notices my American accent. We start talking, about life, home, and the road. As I head on my way to the cafe I am on my way to, he smiles a happy, genuine smile. The best things in life can’t always be given for free, but many good things certainly can.

Note: I originally wrote and posted this as a free article on my Patreon creator page.