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turning to page one
turning to page one
PADRAIC sits staring into space, lit by a single candle, the life gone from him, his animals still milling around, the depressed dog still sitting at the door.
PADRAIC (V.O.)
Even now, as I write, little donkey
Jenny is looking at me, saying please
don’t go, Padraic, we’d miss ya, and
nuzzling me, the gilly gooly. Get off,
Jenny!