This is Mary’s story. I will try to keep it short, I know nowadays people do not have the patience, or the time, for lengthy, convoluted stories. I met Mary on one of the world’s beautiful beaches, Las Canteras in Gran Canary. Why I was there, what I was doing and with whom, does not add anything to Mary’s story, so I will just be her scribe. Suffice to say that I am Irish, like her, a woman, like her, into my old age, like her. Might be, we are both quite similar, and this is why she told me how she ended up, this sad looking, old Irish woman, walking the beach up and down, up and down, piercing the crowds with her clouded vision.