1 January 2025

I grabbed my jacket. I was still under the influence of the movie I had just seen. I descended the stairs slowly, as if I was seeing them for the first time. I looked at the carpet. Somebody had thought of this design years ago, before it was produced. I theorised about how he might have thought of it. My attention shifted to the pictures on the walls. Pictures of Dublin. Pictures that don’t belong to this century.

I see my reflection in the window. There’s nobody here except it. I’m questioning my reality.

It’s cold.

The city is silent at night. I’m looking at the pyramids. I can see them clearly.

No, I don’t want to listen to music today. At least not now.

The movie.

I’m remembering the movie. Suddenly, I imagine that I’m in one. I imagine there’s a camera behind me.

I try to stay there.

I can’t.

I start to walk toward the city centre. I give myself an objective: get a coffee.

I start walking.

There’s barely anyone outside. It’s the day after New Year’s Eve. I’m not surprised.

I have headphones on my neck. I cover my head with my hoodie. Wearing gloves, it’s kind of cold.

I keep walking.

I stop in front of an auction gallery. There’s some interesting art. Nobody outside. Just me and my reflection.

I keep walking.

There are still not many people.

I can see the Christmas lights on Grafton Street to my left.

I keep going.

I’m looking at the buildings, particularly the architecture, as if I’ve never seen it before.

There are tourists taking pictures of the Molly Malone statue.

I keep walking.

My eyes are on the ground now. I don’t want to look like a tourist. I’m acting like a local. I am local.

I order my coffee.

I walk toward Camden Street. It must be busy.

It’s raining now. I don’t have an umbrella, but I don’t mind getting soaked. I don’t care anymore.

I start drinking my coffee. It’s not hot anymore.

I catch my reflection in the window of a store.

I look different in my reflection.

I keep walking.

I keep thinking.

Where can I start my writing this time?

Oh Lord, how many blogs I’ve written. How I had put my emotions into words.

Now I know how to start. I’ve got to go home.

I’m home. I’m thinking: should I write in English or Turkish? Maybe both? No, that’s not ideal. Maybe I can write in Turkish first. No, then there would be two different texts. Pointless. So, English then. Yes, we’re settled.

I grabbed my jacket…

Osman Kerem

01/01/2025

Dublin