Moira Fogarty

Burdened by Weltschmerz, constantly fretting about the eventual heat-death of the universe, I still manage the impressive task of getting out of bed every weekday morning and going to my place of work.

I escape the horrors of modernity through prodigious reading and the avid consumption of whole seasons of television shows. I derive joy from traveling, which is only slightly marred by the knowledge that my addiction to long-haul flights makes me an ecoterrorist.

The great tragedy of my working life is that my dream of selling books in a nice little shop has been effectively destroyed by the industry shift to e-publishing, and the woefully inadequate salary paid to retailers.