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The next morning, Dave and I drove out to Epworth for brunch with his family. I was quickly tasked to propel the porch swing, appreciated by its denizens without the adequate leg length to propel themselves.

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When we had driven as far to the west as we could, all that lay between our parking spot and the absolute west of Ireland was sheep pasture- private sheep pasture. No trespassing sheep pasture. As a consolation, there was a path down to a battered sandy beach that we decided to check out. This shot looks east down at the beach, from the path.
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