On a partly cloudy morning, we set out for the Irish Writers Museum, expecting to see the house that James Joyce built. Ironically, he did not live in Ireland when he so famously wrote about it. The list of those from Ireland (Jonathan Swift, Bram Stoker, Oscar Wilde, G. B. Shaw, Samuel Becket, and on and on) is extensive.
The museum is housed comfortably in this fine red brick house with red and blue something in the lower windows. It is quieter inside than a library…and less crowded. Such is the interest in books today.
We spent more time inside than it took some of its writers to pen the works for which they are famous.
This creepy sculpture is a reminder of how much the struggles of the centuries have cost. The new Irish flag symbolizes the hope that the Catholics (green) and Protestants (orange) can find peace (white) between them. As most have given up God, there’s a good chance.
Here follows some photos of Trinity College. It is right in the center of Dublin. We crossed the campus on our return, expecting to engage in a tour, but we had not eaten for hours.
I do not know that this shiny ball is either, but it’s cool.