My theory of why these islands produce great writers is the Gulf Stream which ends here. The bottom of the ocean is the corporeal repository of human consciousness; its fears, desires and hidden pain. It washes upon the shores of Ireland and Britain, whereby our artists collect these sequestered fragments of the human condition and resolve them into verse and prose. King Lear, Molly Bloom and the Bell Jar all washed up upon our misty shorelines. Beachcombing for realisations.