The black pool

Day 014/100

Spent the day wandering the city trying to get all my errands done, just about managed it. Dublin is at once a city of chaos and peace, for heard within its confines the echoing of cathedral bells, the seasoned sellers of Moore street championing their wares, the cacophony of narrators each with their own story to tell, and the whispering echoes of its turbulent past. Dublin is a city where even to day you follow in the footsteps of the past, standing beneath the columns of the GPO you can imaging the reading of the Proclamation of Independence, unaware of what hardship would follow, meandering around Temple Bar where Viking’s once walked, and hearing Jonathan Swift’s footsteps echo through the hallowed chambers of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. Where the uttered remains of poets and writers live long after Deaths embrace, where everyone becomes a friend over a pint of the black stuff.


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