You step outside and turn left, downhill toward Kinsale harbour. It's night in late October. Light beams through the windows of the nearby homes and the air is earthy and rich, likely from peat stoves. It's a small town and you and your family get to stay here for a long weekend. At home in London, your flat has no fireplace, your wife often watches a fire on TV—a cozy but not truly warm substitute. Until this week, you'd never been to Ireland and had only heard of peat stoves. The house you're staying in has one, and you’re on your way to a local grocery store for basic groceries and peat bricks. The fireplace is a highlight of the trip.
Simple fog hangs in air. In the dim streetlight, you see yellow and orange leaves on trees and ground, and your breath curls away before dissipating. From the hill, you occasionally get glimpses of Kinsale harbour. You're going downhill, towards the bright lights of the grocery store near the harbour. As you pass a particularly clear view of the harbour, you press play on your phone and "Crimson Tide" by Destroyer begins. You hadn't heard it much yet but within a few seconds you knew it had all the lyrically labyrinthine and elliptical qualities you love from the band. You walk on through the crisp, dark air, on your way to get peat bricks.
