I returned to Cork in the west of Ireland seven years after I moved away. I hadn’t lived there long the first time around: six months, the longest I could stay on a paltry visa given to a 19-year-old girl with no skills, no money, and no connections in the country. And it was not like I had a particularly wonderful time during those six months. There had been a severing from both my family and my sort-of boyfriend. I rarely left the very tiny room in my apartment, sneaking out only when I heard the last of my three roommates leave for the day.
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