Dublin, my Dublin

I’m intrigued by buildings with meandering walls, cockeyed windows and the variety of textures that rotting wood leaves behind. Bushy plants which grow wildly out of tiny cracks without an ounce of soil. Anything built with red brick will catch my eye. I imagine past occupants and how they might have lived. I’m in Dublin long enough to remember some of these buildings in use when local communities thrived. I’m documenting the city I love before it disappears, if only for my own memory which is dreadful.