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	<title>Comments on: Breukelen</title>
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	<link>http://dervala.net/2003/11/17/breukelen/</link>
	<description>A love letter</description>
	<pubDate>Mon, 21 May 2012 16:33:48 +0000</pubDate>
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		<title>By: petrol</title>
		<link>http://dervala.net/2003/11/17/breukelen/comment-page-1/#comment-243</link>
		<dc:creator>petrol</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Wed, 19 Nov 2003 21:53:30 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://dervala.net/?p=488#comment-243</guid>
		<description>First dibs on the shirt that says "Dervala (heart) Brooklyn".

I miss BK like nothing else. I've been homesick all this time without realising it. And the realisation hits like a ton of rocks.


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		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>First dibs on the shirt that says &#8220;Dervala (heart) Brooklyn&#8221;.</p>
<p>I miss BK like nothing else. I&#8217;ve been homesick all this time without realising it. And the realisation hits like a ton of rocks.</p>
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		<title>By: Ranger Tim</title>
		<link>http://dervala.net/2003/11/17/breukelen/comment-page-1/#comment-242</link>
		<dc:creator>Ranger Tim</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 17 Nov 2003 23:23:58 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://dervala.net/?p=488#comment-242</guid>
		<description>Would if it had been deliberate. But evidence suggests that I was accidentally afflicted, through intimate contact.</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Would if it had been deliberate. But evidence suggests that I was accidentally afflicted, through intimate contact.</p>
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		<title>By: Dervala</title>
		<link>http://dervala.net/2003/11/17/breukelen/comment-page-1/#comment-241</link>
		<dc:creator>Dervala</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 17 Nov 2003 22:45:32 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://dervala.net/?p=488#comment-241</guid>
		<description>Excuse me, have you paid licence fees to the Irish government for the use of a patented national art form?</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>Excuse me, have you paid licence fees to the Irish government for the use of a patented national art form?</p>
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		<title>By: Ranger Tim</title>
		<link>http://dervala.net/2003/11/17/breukelen/comment-page-1/#comment-240</link>
		<dc:creator>Ranger Tim</dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 17 Nov 2003 22:25:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://dervala.net/?p=488#comment-240</guid>
		<description>I was just a toddler, but I still remember our family's early days in a tiny railroad apartment over the old Borikan Social Club at Smith &amp; President -- it's a yoga studio now -- and the Sundays when mother would march all seven of us kids down to the Gowanus Canal and we'd dive in off the Union St Bridge with a bar of Sunlight soap to share between us and we'd laugh and splash and fight in the shallows dodging tugboats and the odd empty whiskey bottle. Mom would drape our crisply pressed church outfits over the railing, seven little charcoal suits and dresses lined up from littlest to biggest, and she'd wait with one huge towel and dry us off each in turn as we emerged gleaming and goosepimpled into the cool sun of the Brooklyn morning. We'd be just finished wrestling our tiny limbs into our Sunday finest when the churchbells would ring and ma would hustle us up to 9 o'clock Mass at St. Mary Star of the Sea.

Us kids always got a full three pews to ourselves. Running water is so overrated.</description>
		<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>I was just a toddler, but I still remember our family&#8217;s early days in a tiny railroad apartment over the old Borikan Social Club at Smith &#038; President &#8212; it&#8217;s a yoga studio now &#8212; and the Sundays when mother would march all seven of us kids down to the Gowanus Canal and we&#8217;d dive in off the Union St Bridge with a bar of Sunlight soap to share between us and we&#8217;d laugh and splash and fight in the shallows dodging tugboats and the odd empty whiskey bottle. Mom would drape our crisply pressed church outfits over the railing, seven little charcoal suits and dresses lined up from littlest to biggest, and she&#8217;d wait with one huge towel and dry us off each in turn as we emerged gleaming and goosepimpled into the cool sun of the Brooklyn morning. We&#8217;d be just finished wrestling our tiny limbs into our Sunday finest when the churchbells would ring and ma would hustle us up to 9 o&#8217;clock Mass at St. Mary Star of the Sea.</p>
<p>Us kids always got a full three pews to ourselves. Running water is so overrated.</p>
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