Baile Átha Cliath, Republic of Ireland September 8th 2023 – Come Home Journal #20
That night I search.
That night I search for me. I’ve packed as badly as I thought. Too much tech. Not enough clothes. When I think of who I was before this and who I am now. I can feel I packed with a love and kindness for myself, despite my distress, and that I need only close my eyes to feel. I can keenly feel the wonders of how this place speaks to me.
That night I search for food. For food that isn’t brown. And I feel fortunate to be able to choose. There are many people on the street who seem not to have a choice. Here between the bags of rubbish that sit along every street. Someone tells me its rubbish night and it will be gone. But every day it is there, just on different streets.
I choose something brown from the offerings of brown in a motel restaurant. I remind myself to ask my contacts about food options. As I eat I am approached I watch a woman asking for money at every table. She has a hard face, one that only comes from a hard life. She makes it to my table, leans in and asks for money. She needs money for the train. Have you got a quid? I tell her I haven’t enough for her ticket. She’ll find the rest herself she tells me. She hasn’t stopped talking. I give her some cash, not enough. No where near enough.
After she leaves I hear the Americans at another table talking about her. She gets dropped off in a mercedes. This is a job for her. She could have had a shower. Get a proper job. Go home and feed your kids. They tip the waiter.
It makes me feel sad. And I realise I haven’t danced yet. Dancing always shifts my mood. No dance is ever wasted!
That night I search for dancing.
MAIN IMAGE CREDIT: She Dances by Erin M McCuskey
The image journal can be found in this Collection – Ireland – Flickr Album the album Dublin