Driving in rural Ireland is similar to the United States in that once beyond a certain invisible line drivers begin to acknowledge each other. Over here it's a casual wave of the index finger.
Snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. ... -- from The Dubliners by James Joyce
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