or so when a bullet tore through a taxi he was sitting in on the Falls Road and over the next two decades he was stopped repeatedly by soldiers. "When somebody comes to you and says 'OK, mate, over here, against the wall'," he says in exaggerated Cockney, "and you're asked who you are, where you're from, and you say: 'I'm from here.' When you hear it, in your home . . ." Did it ever make him feel like joining in?from The Guardian: A life in poetry: Ciaran Carson
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