unfolding for the sounds of the city

12509070_10156394458740324_5831690278449904378_nClip-it-ti-clop, clip-it-ti-clop. The sounds of the city filter through my window. I lift my hands off the keys and exchange a view through the window of the worldww for the window of the world. I stretch, lengthening my body from its desk side curl. My eyes search the grey sky above me, triangle peak and red brick in front of me until they settle on the cobbles below. A smile tugs my mood upward as I spot the source of the noise interrupting my staring contest with the screen. A horse, saddled, with its owner are the only traffic between my building and the next.

The cobbles and the hooves have been here longer than the metal strips placed between them and the ding-ding of the Luas sliding by. The new city resembles these. It has reconstructed the inherited streets so that glass, metal and plastic can whisk us through them fluidly … in a hurry … forgetting to look outside … forgetting to listen.  But the windows were not forgotten in construction. They have been built into our modernity. The sounds can still seep through them. Our legs can still carry us and feet can still bridge the cobblestone gap. And the horse outside, it can still clip-it-ti-clop, clip-it-ti-clop. They can still disrupt and entice me to the window where I give thanks for the sounds of the city.

cobblestones under feet

In a rubber playground littered with cigarette butts and surrounded by cobblestones, the children laugh and play. They climb, they jump, they dance! “Watch me!” they shout. Tourists eyes are glued to the ground as they descend out of their bus and bounce their suitcases over the stones to their hostel across the way. Clad in business suits, men and women stroll home from work, their bags swinging freely. A football is kicked around between the rows of houses and apartments. The shop is full of local Dubs and foreigners just like me grabbing the few things they need for the evening. The cafe is full of people at their leisure basking in hospitality. Jameson tower stands proudly in watch. The tall modern lamp posts wave their salute. Brick, stone, concrete, glass and metal. White skin, brown skin, freckled skin.

The evening air is full the music coming from the mouths of the youth. The morning brings a hush and drone of vehicles as the city slowly wakes up.

I love this city in the sun. I love it in the rain. I love it when it is grey and clouded over. I love it when the sun breaks in the west and rainbows appear in the east. Whatever the weather, these cobblestones come under feet of young and old. Beautiful, beautiful people.

2014-05-08 16.42.32-1