The seaside breeze, the loud sound of seagulls, the fluffy foxes crossing the street at night, the lack of snobbery, the rain used as watercolour to intensify the green seen in the moss, the colours clashing and mismatching, the urine-sprinkled alleyways, the witty street art, a Pantone rainbow of Georgian doors, the post-pub chit-chat with the cabbie, the smell of cherries and strawberries for 1 euro a box in Mary Street, the pretty barges along the canal, the balance between cobble and brick, that cosy fireplace where you least expect, the sunset swallowed by the mountains and muted by mist… and of course the greasy smell of rashers and white pudding invading the morning glory with its fry-up splendor.
I've been building a relationship with this city since I've moved here and now that the novelty wore off, my passion for Dublin remains. 6 months are not nearly enough to get to know every corner and every best kept secret of this dirty old town but I've been doing a great job at getting more intimate with its nooks and crannies, the neighbourhoods, the lifestyle. I like to believe this is the place to be, where I can evolve as a person, getting inspired, feeling free to be myself, seeking entertainment among strangers and friends. I call Dublin home now, and I'm still in love with this city - hopefully it won't cease to surprise me - so I guess that the best is yet to come.