Alley Dancer

I left in my car at ISA Motors off Carysfort Avenue (for a full diagnostic, new shocks and air filter). A beautiful Springy morning, very non-Autumnal. I walked around the corner with Lola, old terraces of working class brown/redbrick houses, into Brookfield Court, then over a little arched metal bridge across a stream, into an expanse of playing fields, a park I'd barely been aware of in all the years I've lived in the area. Very peaceful, sun flashing off a back garden window, and beyond the soft graph of the Dublin Mountains. I met a couple of dog-walkers and let Lola off to tear round the place, wrestling and chasing a slightly bigger spaniel. On our way back, I stopped at this alley, which I recognised from having photographed before, a year or so ago, from the street at the other side. As then, there was a figure at the end of the alley, though in the first instance it was the wean, whom I had asked to stand there. This time it was a stranger, apparently talking to a man, both of whom lifted their arms every so often in that crabwise gesture, snapping photos: a species of contemporary dance.