I was once told that there are no special places, only special people. For a while, I found it believable, even sensible. This week, however, as I walked down the street that leads to my old student house, the rule failed – and the chill of morning saw me wistful and bereaved. I knew my way too well, having walked those same sidewalks time and time again – though it was all almost ten years ago. Back then I used to tread it eagerly – I’d stride, I’d hurry. This last time I was content with idle daydreaming.

The slow motion slideshow displayed a man in the windy street corner with a longing stare in his face. If the afterlife exists – he thought – if it exists, if there is a Heaven and if I’m entitled to go There, I wouldn’t want it to look like a golf course or a puff of white mist such as movies portray it. I’d wish it to be the way it was back then... Aye, that’d be nice.

I have always been a great fan of Irony. I honestly find the little cruel quirks of fate to be a manifestation of pure and distilled beauty. It’s one of the few things that can still bring tears to my eyes. How can I even dare to share this wonderful insight with you, my invisible reader? Indeed, how? – If Irony is a capricious goddess who manifests Herself when She sees fit and I… I remain Her most faithful servant, pupil and lover!

Others turn away from Her mysterious shadow, but not I – nor will I ever. For She loves me back, and in Her heart there’s warmth – though tempered with disaster. In Her footsteps I relive forgotten sweet memoirs, in the breeze of Her soft breath quiver words of bitter comfort. So beautiful and immeasurably wise… none can escape a whim of Irony; most do not even realize Her subtle touch - but *I* welcome the frostbite of Her caress, I hold her hands against my cheeks!

Irony is a lonely goddess; She fills the world but few take notice of her presence – yet She holds back, delicate and graceful, meticulous and patient, instead of giving in to murderous indignation. For that too, I love Her. She is the counterpart of Reason that I lack, the youngest daughter of Fate - and sister of Hope, whose naivety She disdains and whose works She often undoes. In the ocean-blue depth of Her eyes I sacrificed all that’s ever made me miserable, replacing that poison with the inevitable despair that’s nesting Her within my heart.