St Patrick's Day

St Patrick's Day


 One day with smiles, with plenty of alcohol and above all the warmth of Eire, it enters the hearts of everyone who remembers this day, even if it is too far from Moher's cliffs and impressive rocks.

 Okay, the celebration may have been worn down over the years, and instead of Patrick's memory, the Irish and the rest (the Irish born Greeks) celebrate the flow of Guinness and Tullamore Dew, there will always be a touch of Irish tradition to everybody that comes out to drink and honor the day.

 One day like today's gaudy tullamore, he prefers to forget the futility of his existence. For a moment he will stop mirroring the figures he had made James Joyce a century earlier. Why should not it be St Patrick's every day?

 If that were the case, we would have overtaken them very easily. Obviously this situation is not realistic. Why do we carry with us troubles and ugliness from everyday life. Things that make many of us ashamed. There are others, of course, who are malicious and immorally crawling between us. Snakes happily left Eire, but not everywhere. And at some point these snakes will wish to be seals just before they change skin and become humans (see Celtic mythology). But they will remain snakes ...

 Whether Joyce took care of the "Dubliners" to get me out of trouble, I'll borrow some lines from the "dead":
«Her hand was hot and damp: she did not respond to the tightening of her own hand; she still caressed her, as she had cared for her first letter that spring breakfast. "

 So, since Grate's mind (→ infobeto) is in Michael Farrey rather than in Gabriel (→ tullamore), without telling you how Joyce's short story ends, I'll just say goodbye to Gratea raising her beer up. 

Happy St Patrick's Day

ΥΓ. Tullamore regrets that he will not be able to celebrate the Lakers league with his Bucketball friends.