StBrendansAtTheCorner
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When the Writer is Undone

I didn’t expect to cry at my own writing. But rereading a quiet Good Friday moment, I found truth waiting—closer, heavier, and more recognisable than before. Continue reading
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The Petals Beneath the Morning Light.

The first person to notice the flowers was Mrs Byrne. as she arrived early to light the candles before the eight o’clock Mass. The sun had only now begun to slip through the high windows, with long golden stripes lying across the tiled floor. There, caught in the light like a secret being revealed, lay… Continue reading
