Cinema e Spettacolo

O Ireland, land of love and passion, your calling is a whisper that grows into a storm in the heart. If there is one place where the soul finds solace, it is within your mists, heavy with history, especially in your capital, Dublin, where the sacred and the profane dance in an eternal, fascinating embrace.

I. The Soul in a Glass: Pubs and Suspended Time

Where does the heart of conviviality beat, if not behind the oak doors of your pubs?

They are the true cathedrals of your spirit, hearths of democracy and chatter. In Dublin, the pub is the university of the people, the stage of the storyteller.

Here, time loses its haste, and every clock stops at the slow rhythm of conversation. Between one glass and the next, the thread of life unfolds. This is where the craic is born—that irrepressible spark of joy, that sense of belonging that only a people capable of laughing at their own destiny can offer.

Blessed is the stranger who enters your pub and leaves a friend!

II. The Black Elixir: The Sacredness of Guinness

If the pub is the temple, then Guinness is your holy Sacrament. It is not merely beer, but an alchemy of history, patience, and perfection. Its deep black reflects the dark soul of the island, topped by a crown of creamy foam, a symbol of purity.

The six-minute wait while it settles is a silent prayer, an act of devotion. To drink Guinness is to honor the earth, to taste the peat, the malt, and centuries of Irish spirit in a single sip.

It is the liquid pride of Dublin, the very substance of your passion.

III. The Emerald Magic: The Eternal Green

And then there is your green, Ireland, a shade so intense it seems invented. It is the color of hope covering your gentle hills and your parks—the lungs of your capital. The green of St Stephen’s Green, where benches listen to the secrets of generations, and the green of the wild meadows.

This emerald carpet is the reflection of your character: resilient, vibrant, and full of life, a constant call to primordial beauty and the intrinsic poetry of nature.

IV. The Immortal Legacy: Poets and Writers

But your greatest passion, Dublin, is the word. You are the city where language is a martial art and literature is the breath of the people. From the dramas of Oscar Wilde to the rage of Yeats, you have nourished giants, but none loved your urban fabric with the obsession of your most enigmatic son: James Joyce.

Through the eyes of Leopold Bloom and his wanderings in Ulysses, you are not just a city, but an entire universe. Joyce immortalized you, mapping every alley, making you the quintessential literary city.

To walk your streets is to tread the pages of a masterpiece, a continuous pilgrimage between what has been written and what is yet to be dreamt.

This is why the love we feel is not just for your places, but for the inexhaustible passion that pulses within every one of your stories.

Oh, Ireland, emerald land, eternal is the love I give you.