Killarney Kiss
"Jaunting car driver Folake takes tourists through Killarney's beauty—but the thick Congolese photographer in her carriage captures something more precious than scenery."
Solange's camera never stopped clicking.
The mountains. The lakes. The Gap of Dunloe. But mostly, Folake.
"I'm not the scenery," Folake said.
"You're better than scenery." Those thick curves shifted. "Stop the cart. I want to take proper photos."
"Of what?"
"Of us."
The private spot overlooked the lakes.
No tourists. Just them and the ancient landscape.
"I've traveled the world," Solange admitted. "Never found anything worth staying for."
"And now?"
"Now I'm considering Ireland."
The photographs were intimate.
Two women against Irish green. Thick bodies intertwined like Celtic knots.
"These can never be published," Folake said.
"Some art is just for the artist."
"And their subject?"
"Especially for her."
Killarney's jaunting cars continued their rounds.
But Folake's routes gained new stops. Private locations. Personal moments.
"Best tour guide in Kerry," Solange told friends.
She didn't mention the tour's best parts.
Those were exclusive.