For a time, I lived in Dublin, Ireland. It was such an exciting time in my life. I’d just fallen in love – hard – with an American who had deep Irish roots. I was living light years away from family and friends, in a country famed for their storytelling and craic. We were incredibly poor, but happy.

One of the most beautiful sculptures I have ever seen. I adore their expressions and the fact the female is standing on her tippy toes. D2, Dublin, Ireland.

But part of the difficulties of falling in love with a foreign national are the visa hassles. I left the grey skies of Dublin to spend 90 days with the American’s family in the US, and then returned to the city where I started my original adventure. Alone. It was so interesting to return for a few months and explore the city as a woman, alone, and in love.

Love, Dublin-style.

I was looking through some of my photos from this period, and I really sought out the love in Dublin.
I noticed it in the beautiful orange leaves that decorated the locks.
I saw it in the rare sunrises over Sandymount beach.
In the sculptures.
The families of ducks in St Stephens Green.
In graffiti.
Everywhere.

Yes. You are beautiful.

It was a beautiful time in my life.