September 08, 2013

July, 2013

During my trip in Ireland I went everywhere with my notebook, as I always do. This is just a recollection of what I wrote.

It is July and I am weary. I walk through Dublin light-headed, hot-skinned, stunned to find my way so easily in a city where I spent only three days. Everywhere I look something is familiar to me, as if some gentle spirit had laid down a path of painted bricks for me to follow. I have never been afraid, traveling on my own. I find it freeing, knowing that no one knows exactly where I am or what Im doing. I could be lost and no one would know, so I have to stay found, I have to know where Im going, and I do. I walk, stranger among a blind crowd. Im looking for a home. I thought I would leave familiarity and comfort behind me, on the other side of the sea, but I feel safer here. Eyes are wild, but smiles and words are polite and kind.

On the bus from the airport, an old lady with violet eyes tells me I look like an Irish girl, and I talk with her all the way to St. Patricks Cathedral. Shes the first person I talk to and she makes me feel accepted. I truly love the random kindness some people are able to share, no matter who they have in front of them.

Here, every step I take feels like retracing the road I took when I was with you there, a year ago. I take the bus near the park, I watch the same meadows unfold before my heavy eyelids. Have you ever came back to a place where nothing has changed, but you have, and suddenly it feels like youve been blinded and someone just lift up the curtain on a watercolour painting ? I follow the same path in the woods, the dark water of the lake shimmering softly nearby, the same wind dancing in the summer leaves, the same twigs exploding under my feet, but you are not with me. You ghost is, though. He's walking with me, whispering his silly songs in my hear.

Everyday I woke up in the lovely home of my hosts, purple flowers descending against the window, birds chirping so loud you can't even hear the noise of the city. It feels good to rise with the sun again. These last few months I overslept, my body collapsing at sunset, begging me to go to sleep and forget the pain of the day. Now I only rest a few hours between midnight and dawn ; in the mirror the skin around my eyes bear the blue kiss of a night too short, but I feel energized anyway.  

These pictures were taken near Glendalough, the valley of the lakes, County Wicklow. 

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