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About Dublin

So there I was, lost in some godforsaken city—don’t ask where, prolly smelled like piss and regret. Needed a guide, not for mountains, but for... y’know, *company*. Streets twistin’ like that faun’s maze, eyes everywhere, judgin’. Found this lass, right? Skinny, eyes like Ofelia’s—haunted, but sharp. “Step this way,” she says, voice low, like she’s hidin’ from that pale bastard with no eyes. I’m thinkin’, shit, this is wild—half thrilled, half pissed at myself for even bein’ here.

Nobody is coming soon

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First off, I’m trying to get my coffee fix at the local café on Main Street. You know, the one with the weird name—“Bean There, Done That.” I swear, the barista was having a rough morning. She spilled milk everywhere. Like, everywhere! I’m standing there, waiting for my flat white, and I’m like, “Is this a coffee shop or a dairy farm?”

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