Billy Shaw

THE ROAD TO GOD KNOWS WHERE
Billy Shaw is the handle attached to the human being I call myself.
"So what?" you say - and already I figure out that you never grew up in the misery of the wee North like I did.
"Where do you live?" is the question I expect from a local stranger, fishing to place me.
I'm actually militantly neutral, grew up working class, lived in . . . . . .
It's not because I don't give a fuck. Just the opposite in fact. I care deeply about human beings. Which is why I got a motorbike and travelled, care-free, as far as I could, into the mysteries of the life.
Yes, I travelled like a rogue, trading on the supposed innocence and ignorance of being a mad Irishman, but so what? I used all my resources to get by, meeting good and bad with equal compassionj, even though some threw me to the wolves, so to speak - into the wilderness, the bush and the desert, not caring if I lived or died.
On the whole, nonetheless, I believe in the outright wonder of being human. And I'

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