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About Dublin

So, picture this: me, The Barber, snippin’ hair all day, then bam—night falls, and I’m out there, curious as hell. Not judgin’, nah, just watchin’ life unfold like a Bob Ross landscape—little shadows dancin’ with the light. You roll up to some sketchy corner, neon buzzin’, and there she is—let’s call her Candy, ‘cause why not? She’s got that vibe, y’know, like Adèle’s lover, all fierce and fragile at once. “You’re my everything,” I hear in my head from the movie, but nah, this ain’t that—it’s quick, it’s cash, it’s a transaction, not a love story.

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But then, outta nowhere, the sky goes dark. I’m like, “What now?” And it starts pouring. I mean, it’s Crumlin, so of course, it rains. We’re sprinting for cover, laughing like idiots. I’m soaked, but it’s kinda fun.

Death Notice of Agnes Duncan (née Murphy) (Crumlin, Dublin)