i blew into Dublin in the early naughties a very green boy and throughout the years, here in our centralised capital i’ve seen enough to help me make the climb to the heights of Firhouse, an area of southwest Dubh Linn i wasint intitally keen to see, although 5 years later i couldint imagine a posher part of Tallaght eyed rather live in.
The transformation offa closed mind began with a view of the mountains waking me with itz windy wind every morning, azzeyed walk from our home to THE bustop,
. . . looking east to the affluent coast and the sea that belongs to us . . . and thinking of those in the BIG jet planes taking off from the air port to the north . . . on their business.
. . . the walks with my wife by the dodder in summer . . .
. . . the cattle in the fields close to the convent . . .
. . . and the green open space surrounding the community centre where our dags run free in the evening with myself and moo moo keeping a close watch from behind as we admire the one lonely tree that has braved the burning winds of Kilakee . . .
This land is our land and slowly the postcode we love will be no more as our green spaces are disposed of by OUR council to make way for indoctrination centres, of the young pledging their obedience to the new Orthodoxy. Nature certainly plays second to that of science and progress . . .