Ive always found Belfast, as a city, a little like a bossy, confident, sarcastic & distant cool Upper Sixth (say Im the First Year) but within 24 hours skirting her folds, shes softened, mellowed, let us dance, laugh & whispered us secrets. The spoken word collective has always, always been welcoming & inviting, the souls of poets & wordsmiths there second to none & lifelong friends made & treasured. But, as a city, it has mostly been a difficult one to read & skip to. Clasped hands rather than open hand-shake. But a dawn-to-dusk stay in her company, strolling her streets of sweeping buzz, the smells & colours of her essence, the quirky quickness of her bars & cafes, the draped decadence & grand decay of her history & architecture, opulent yet there to be awed & held proud, has a new mischievous warmth & bold edge. Every twist & turn a little excited or silent gasp. It was my first time up the Belfast Eye - a city spread out in slate-grey with a punch of yellow, bubblewrap clouds tripping office-blocks - and I felt I could pocket a piece of her cloth. Belfast, Ive visited your hems no more than 30 times in the past, but this time, youve let me unravel your tough stitches & button thought. First time I ever visited St Georges Market, and caught the brilliance of Saturday afternoon jazz in McHughs. First time ever stayed overnight-hotel with a 2am pajama kerbside cig among revellers & felt safe, And boy, it wont be the last time Ill put you on. You wear well & look good. Youre bright & zipping fast. But Derry - youre the comfy jumper I love to wear & Inishowen the threads that hug me most :)) xx
Posted on: Sun, 06 Jul 2014 10:57:28 +0000
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