Tag: Clawfoot

Go to Dublin, Sleep in a Clawfoot Bathtub.

It’s 5 a.m. as I step ashore. The early morning fog glides across the city’s slate rooftops, licking at windows, sliding down drainpipes until it catches in my throat, chilling my breath. Dublin, did anyone ever know such a town? Open your nostrils, smell the religion, touch her stric...

The Clawfoot Bathtub

It was 5:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning when I stepped ashore at the Dublin docks. The early morning fog was gliding across the city’s slate rooftops, licking at windows, sliding down drainpipes until it caught in my throat, chilling my breath. Dublin, dear God, did anyone ever know such a tow...