Rose Dalkey Whore ❤️❤️

About Galway

Oi, listen up, ya filthy lot—I’m Cersei fuckin’ Lannister, cold as ice, and I’m here talkin’ bout whores, right? Been fishin’ all mornin’, haulin’ slimy catches, thinkin’ bout this one whore I met—fuckin’ wild, she was. Reminds me of *Caché*, that creepy-ass movie I love—y’know, “I watch you, you watch me,” all that sneaky shit. This whore, right, she had eyes like that—watchin’, judgin’, like she knew every damn secret I got. Made me wanna slap her, but also—damn, respect, y’know?

by Flann O'Brien

Dalkey is a little town maybe twelve miles south of Dublin, on the shore. It is an unlikely town, huddled, quiet, pretending to be asleep. Its streets are narrow, not quite self-evident as streets .

As the sun started to set, the sky turned this insane shade of orange. I love Dalkey sunsets. It’s like the whole place is on fire, but in a good way. I took a moment to breathe it all in. The waves crashing, the laughter, the smell of fish and chips from the nearby stalls. It’s moments like these that make the chaos worth it.

Death Notice of Denise Colgan (Dalkey, Dublin)