This post is also available in: polski (Polish)
Dominick Street in Galway is bustling with an old-school glow. The chief carries a tray full of eggs from one cafe to another. Beer kegs meditate on the sidewalk in front of a yellow door with a rustic knocker.
I walk slowly and notice every detail honestly like a tourist. A purple-navy film frame reflects together with the Claddagh ring and me in a red beret. The scream of the seagulls like a daily hit whirling over the city alleys. But an old lady in blue passing on a bicycle breaks that tone by humming her own song. I follow her with my eyes and notice the exhibition of clay mushrooms in Bell jars made by Nancy Klein in the Galway Bay Tatoo window.
The sapphire Tartare Café is not open yet. I have a quick coffee training there. The girl I met the first time yesterday offered me to refresh my Barista skills on their coffee machine. O, yes, some used to call me: Hey Barista! And it happened I made the best coffees in the canteen I worked. Moreover, between making latte and wash up, I interviewed my customers, and they told me what does coffee means to them.
So, I keep walking and see the woman who put crispy bread in wicker baskets at the Rouge French restaurant. Everything around seems fresh and colourful. Is this how every morning on Dominick Street looks like? Stop by and see what new happens in your favourite streets in the morning.