Emma Sandymount Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Dublin

So, lemme tell ya ‘bout this one time—Homer’s outta town, prob’ly eatin’ donuts somewhere dumb. I’m bored, right? Walkin’ down by the tracks—ooh, shady!—and I see this gal, all fishnets and lipstick, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns it. I’m like, “Hmm… she’s workin’ it!” Reminds me of Varda’s gleaners, pickin’ through life’s leftovers. She catches me starin’—awkward!—and yells, “What’s your deal, lady?” I’m all flustered, mutterin’, “Just admirin’ your hustle, hon!”

Nobody is coming soon

I wouldn't walk on O'Connell Street at night. Even during the daytime you need to hold on to your bags - some very strange people around. Dubliners are rough.

Then, outta nowhere, this guy runs in. He’s all frantic, looking for someone. Turns out, he lost his kid. My heart drops. I’m like, “Not today, man.” So, I jump into action. I start scanning the crowd. I’m calling in backup. “Yo, we got a missing kid situation!”

Condolence Book for Paul Kehoe (Sandymount, Dublin)