Instead of rolling out of bed and somewhat sleepily opening your emails in your living room, let’s imagine you’re in Dublin and you’re late.
In your hastily tied dressing gown, you follow me as I walk (or rather jaywalk) through the city centre; Jaysus will she ever slow down.
Deep into the Liberties we go; you dodge still burning cigarette embers in your fluffy slippers while gawking at old brick buildings.
I dive into a little cafe, you almost loose me.
Half expecting to be thrown out, you look timidly around the room and spot a guy knitting quietly in the back corner.
You order a coffee and grab a seat nearby so you can eavesdrop.
The conversation begins.
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