Life

Dark green backdrops and gold lettering. Overhangs a billowy sign, onto a thin sidewalk among black cars with yellow licenese plates.

To our right, a tourist shop. Other side's the shop before the street corner, a pub, all that's left, not right.

Someone orders a cheese sandwich. Gorgonzola? Yes, we have some.

Joycean or joyful man going about daily business? Little does it matter to me.

In this world: a small shop in Dublin, everyone's Blooming, living some experience so complex it takes a decade and nearly a thousand pages to write.

And it's not just them, it's me too, me, innocent me, grew up in a small town outside of a large city me. Being alive, sensationally alive, experiencing cool air, fresh warm pastry, men in soft hats and coats, thinking thoughts about nothing in particular.