Postcards from Ireland
Dublin
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The Airport
It all begins here—waiting for my brother to land, knowing the next chapter starts the moment we’re finally in the same timezone again. Far from where we were, and exactly where we’re meant to be.
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Split it
I’ll have a pint of Guinness, please—and maybe a story or two. a few gulps, foam still fresh on the glass.
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In The Castle Gardens
He didn’t notice the castle, the garden, or me—just turned the pages like he’d done it a thousand times before.
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Oscar Wilde
“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”
Postcards from Ireland
I carried a cobalt tin of watercolors through castle lawns, pub corners, and misty fields—painting whatever caught my breath. These pieces are my little love notes from the road: quick, vivid, and full of memory. Each original is $25 (plus shipping), and if you grab one, I’ll send it straight from my sketchbook to your hands—with a handwritten note tucked inside, maybe even stamped with a bit of Irish magic. Prints coming soon—but for now, it’s just you, me, and the originals.
South Counties
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Dingle Harbor
The harbor held its breath. Mist rolled through, soft and slow. No rain, just quiet and cool. A little stillness before the next pint.
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Blarney
I kissed the stone. Do I have the gift of gab now?
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Southern Pub
My brother sunk into a mismatched chair, Guinness in hand, beneath a ceiling plastered with old album covers. We left him there while we wandered the town. He was perfectly content—just him, the music, the pint, and the pub.
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Kinsale
A little boat floated below the stone walls of Charles Fort. Everything else was still—just sky, water, and that slow-moving speck of yellow.
The Wild Atlantic
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The Wild Atlantic
A jagged little cove, carved into the coast like a secret. I sat in the dunes wrapped in a fleece, salt in the air, the wind just right. The sea was loud. Everything else was still.
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Cows of Dingle
They lived in the backyard of our seaside cottage—calm, curious, watching. My brother hung his laundry and they stared like he was performing. He was defiantly performing when he started doing handstands for them.
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Cliffs of Moher
Breathtaking doesn’t even cover it. Tourists buzzed around, but the four of us stood quiet at the edge while I painted. They waited with me.
