One Saint Patrick goes

"Kick off too soon , or stick around too late" went a verse from Okkervil River , it seemed slipped out of my  sighs.. a" stick around too late" case scenario is what I have done, purposedly let me confess audience, when I went to Dublin last year for St Patrick's Day.

In fact I managed to arrive after the parade right in the middle of the drinking phase to enjoy streets reeking with beer and echoing with jokes.

I make here a second confession, it is that I secretely and discretly enjoy and taste the moments in between , the before partying expectation and excitation and the afterparty when make up has gone off, where everybody is too drunk with beer or tiredness to remember his or her lines..there I try to catch the most beautiful humanity I have ever known, those of the men looking themselves in their mirror and hesitating whether to recognise the image in face... off balance

So it begins with this weird and surreal flashlight from the night to move into the day after St Patrick

 The party is general, still some shops go on as any other day of the year

I enjoy this take, I shot it the day after where I managed to get lost in close to suburbs , in the pub at 2pm these guys were drinking and they did not miss to make friends with me, when I entered to look for a toilet. Of course all of them could speak the basics italian to charm a girl, old tricks I suppose for dubliners. Of course they all made perfect courtship .

I like this shot also because I think it comes from a more gentleman like time, it could have been taken by Chatwin in any obscure off the road pub.

The small figures for wedding cakes is one of the saddest picture I have ever taken . I cannot resist to put it here, because in this walk through Dublin it reminded me of some of my thoughts about one of my greatest scare ever; to be trapped in a life that may look sweet but it is frozen forever in a cage.

Still walking through the suburbs , looking for something that is not something usually looked for...

At some point, on the day after St Patricks, along the river the music filled the air, it was this girl dispensing happiness in the siesta time.

When I went to Dublin last year, it was not a glimpse of St Patrick but also the afterdays of one very difficult time that is now haunting almost every place in Europe, the terrible pitiless and not too clear as-a-matter-of-fact like economic crisis

Whether the gloomy looks exchanged are the consequence of this crisis or of just the universal moment of anguish and loss we all experience I cannot say...

There goes this walk through the Dublin of the after party, I do not know whether what I caught is a scale off the skin of Ireland or just a speck of my image of a tender , traditional warm and tough place. Like everywhere, one travels with itself as its largest baggage.