When a soul is born in this country you are thrown nets to prevent its escape.
A theorist travelling the world claimed that love is a quantifiable and measurable force, able to transcend the dimensions. Simply put, if two people are distant in space and time, they are still able to love each other, each one having the perception, albeit undefined, of the love they share. Love would therefore be a "transverse" force, able to produce consequences at a distance.
Even if this can’t be proved, it certainly demonstrates, first and foremost that spatial distance never breaks true love. Only 130,000 people inhabit the 5,586m2 expanse that is Mayo County, yet you get the impression that everybody knows each other, just like in a village. And if you're lucky enough to exchange a few words with them - and this is not uncommon given that the most valuable treasure of the county is the friendliness of those who live there, you have the feeling that love really is a force that crosses the dimensions, it’s so powerful and alive in people, the history of their families and the population in general; so powerful that the great figures in the county’s history are alive and present in the hearts of the people as if they were events and people of our time.
The loneliness that isolates a shepherd and his flock on a hill overlooking Lough Mask or a fisherman in his boat in the middle of Clew Bay is quite apparent, an overwhelming bond to the spirit of the place, to its customs and traditions which are shared by everyone equally.
Once again we see a remarkable consistency between man and nature: the sheep, symbol of all Ireland, dotted across the fields, grazing, distant from each other, without conditions or restrictions, and yet all connected to each other, sure of regrouping at some point of the day in a given place, as if they have absorbed from their shepherd a sense of freedom that is never lost, but that guides the journey through space and time, with the certainty of belonging to a community.