In War Memorial Gardens I have found my own personal secret garden. It's one of Dublin's greatest escapes to tranquility. I plucked the remaining moribund roses, their petals withered and fading like everything else in Autumn. The fallen leaves sound like corn flakes being crushed under my feet. My thoughts become fluid and feather-light, tree branches as my umbrella and neo-classical nooks as my shelter. Only two teenagers rolling a joint and a couple walking the dog bring me back to reality in this magnificent garden located in Islandbridge, away from the noisy haste that boils my brain and pollute my mind. Next time I'll bring a book, a bottle of rosé to match the pastel flowers and the cheese knife.