It's Spring, they say. Apart from the magnolias I spot here and there, it still feels like Winter, but it's gradually getting milder and brighter. A hermit sun shows up sometimes and the extended daylight is filtered by those fat, monochromatic clouds. In Dublin, everything is grey and blue and green, with rust-coloured bricks kissed by perpetual rain. I listen to Black Rebel Motorcycle Club in a candle-lit room and my cup of coffee is empty again. No one here to hear my sighs, only a radiator melting the chocolate leftovers from yesterday and a bass guitar challenging my fingers.