I used to think love meant remembering everything. The exact corner where someone laughed, the colour of their coat, the name of the place where they cried into a paper napkin. I…

I met her because I was late, which is still the most Dublin thing that has ever happened to me. It was raining sideways outside Heuston Station, the kind of rain that…

I met Lena on a wet Thursday in November, the kind of Dublin evening where the sky seems to lower itself onto your shoulders. I was working late in a small print…

I used to tell people that I met him in a very romantic way, because the truth felt too ordinary. I said there had been rain on Grafton Street, a busker singing…

I used to think the best approach to love was to make yourself easy to keep. Don’t ask too much. Don’t show the nervous parts. Laugh when you are hurt, say “no…

I met Niamh on a wet Tuesday evening in Dublin, the kind of evening where the rain doesn’t fall so much as hang in the air and settle into your coat. We…