Street Echoes (Dublin)

Walking through Dublin feels like stepping into an open score:at every corner, a different melody emerges—improvised, alive.

There were musicians everywhere—bagpipes, bodhráns, voices filling small squares—and at first I felt the urge to record that urban folklore with my camera.

What caught my attention was seeing people taking photos next to the musicians, as if the music were a kind of fairground backdrop.I was surprised to recognise my own arrogance:I felt somehow above it all with my larger camera, when in fact I was just as much a part of the noise and the gesture.

A few steps further on, the scene changed It was no longer only musicians and tourists: I came across a man sleeping on the pavement, exhausted, lying on pieces of cardboard.

I stopped. Music was still playing in a nearby square, but my attention had shifted.Dublin was celebration, yes… but it was also a city with open wounds.

In the afternoon, the pubs filled with music and beer.The atmosphere became warm again, easy to enjoy.

And yet, I still carried with me the image of that man on the street, asleep beneath the indifference of the morning.The musical notes seemed to belong to another score altogether—more complex, and less kind.

This text was written during a stay in Dublin and is part of a group of writings and images I revisit today from a different distance. Not as a closed archive, but as an ongoing process.