Dublin, Somewhere, at Dusk

Ten past four (in your afternoon), and I’m walking Pearse Street in the direction of Wales, or Zagreb, come to that. First Guinness sunk, but mind, only the one. Working most of the day in the hotel room on Draft 5 of The Script. B’s at her very big meeting. I pass under a 48-sheet and notice that The Team Here are still hard at it with their ‘other approach’ as regards something that used to mean something to me. It’s just getting dark. I like this time the best. John Butler Yeats at the National. Still, the unfathomable reclining showroom-dummy of Wilde on the rock. Grafton Street is in ruins. After a while I stopped photographing all the Morrissey shops and signs and vans and – well, because there are so many. Because of my poor education – I mean my very poor reading of maps – I must sketch out a city in my own hand first before I set foot on its streets. And triangulate flamboyantly, in my mind, with somewhere, and with sometime, and someone.

IMG_1120

 

 

Advertisements

About Stevie Mitchell

I come from a long line of cartoons and beer. I was once peed on by a tiger. Hoping the resultant super-powers are yet to come, cos if these are they, then, grrrr....
This entry was posted in Travel and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s