This dewy Kewpie was in a yard chock-full of bronze statues next door to where I had lunch with my second cousins in Armagh on the day they took me to see the family plot. All three of us were drawn into the unassuming yard littered with hundreds of statues, some as massive as horses and some as small as a bird. I had walked through similar stores in the past but this seemed almost magical, perhaps it was the older Irish gentleman who ran the joint because he reminded me of Frank McCourt (of Angela’s Ashes renown) in farmers garb, or maybe it’s simply true that everything is better in Europe. Everything that was brought to America that is i.e. food, clothes, men, the basics. I couldn’t leave the place without buying something, which is generally what happens at every store I like, ever, and as much as I wanted to ship home a 2000 lb stallion to use as a coat rack, I settled for a beautiful brass bell in the shape of a queen that I gave to my Grandmother for her birthday. One day I’ll go back and commission him to make me a unicorn statue which I will proudly display in my yard along with the other oversized tchotchkes I’ll have acquired. Hopefully there’s a fountain somewhere in the mix. And an Eagle nest. And a dinosaur hedge. Okay I’ll stop.