Walking from O’Connell Street to South Great George’s Street early on a Saturday morning, you only meet a handful of people. In Temple Bar, the street sweepers have been busy already and cleaned all pancake-looking smut from the cobblestones. The only other human beings on the pavement are English and German tourists who don’t want to miss out on their free hotel breakfasts. They stand outside the hotels, pale-faced, clutching coffee cups and Red Bull cans, dragging on their cigarettes as if their sanity depends on it. Maybe it does.

Image by GreenWhiteOrange