It starts like this: Meeting friends at the Spire. watching performers on Grafton Street. Pub crawls. Spotting seals in Liffey. Cliff walk in Howth.
|Photo: Natalia Czachowicz|
Then you can see it: Drifting the sea of redbrick houses on the Dart between Pearse Station and Clontarf Road. Wandering about the concrete jungle of East Wall. Sandymount Beach at low tide. The palpitating sea in the Dalkey Harbour. Watching from the Druids Chair as rain clouds approach.
Then it gets intense: Infiltrating a herd of deer in Phoenix park. The nighttime cheese’n’garlic chips after pints. Picnic lunch in Merrion Square at the peak of summer. Coffee and scone on a commute along Grand Canal.
Then it affects you: The cold and hot water taps. Getting scared by a Viking Tour approaching from behind. Awaiting Dublin Bus for ages in pouring rain on O’Connell street just to see three of them come all at once.
Then you enjoy it: An all-day 5-item breakfast. The dim light and saxony carpet in a local pub. Pretending you’re in subtropics in the greenhouse at Drumcodra Botanic Gardens when Spain is out of the question. The taste of Guinness.
Then you start to care: Admiring the truly capitalist spirit of Moore Street. Finding new beginnings along Lower Baggot Street. Sharing bad news with Patrick Kavanagh on his bench. The hope that Luas lines meet some day. This “finally!” feeling after landing at the Dublin Airport.
And then you leave.