Roots


Four days left in Dublin. Can two weeks have passed already? I’ve picked up my dry cleaning. I’ve packed my books to ship to me in Italy via An post. I still have to take the ESB out of my name. Close my bank account. Shut down my internet. Get my deposit back from the landlord. The landlords were busy while I was in Italy, redecorating for new tenants and putting up the apartment on daft.ie. Potential renters have trooped through my studio day and night. Why are you moving out? they ask. They expect me to reply: Because it’s so darn small and the landlords should totally lower the rent. But instead I have to say: Because I’m leaving Dublin.

Saw this in my living room the day I got back:

At first I thought it was another decoration, put up by the landlords, like the new red lampshade. It took me a couple of days to realize that it was coming through the window:

Where are its roots? Where is it going? What’s it looking for?

Metaphors, metaphors.

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