Short story: This is where it will happen By Karl Whitney - - - - Sweeping down across the blocks of flats, past the miles of concrete semi-detached lives and across the wide ribbon of motorway folded across the southern suburbs of Dublin, you find a quiet peaceful valley, where instead of a river there runs a road. On a hill above, a rampart-like water tower marks out a school, while in the distance one can discern the yellowy blueness of the mountains steadily tapering up as a background to our scenes. This is Dublin, or South Dublin to be more precise, or a certain part of South Dublin to be even more precise. Six miles from the city centre, it seems a sleepy counterpart to its northern cousin, and a world away from the hubbub of the city. But all cities, it must be said, are like this: the dispersed housing in outlying areas making up areas known as suburbs. Commuting becomes a necessity for all, so traffic jams are always around the corner. Or, if not that corner, then the next one. Then sometimes, all is quiet, and no matter where you are it seems like the city exists for you, and only you. -------- Stories | Home | About This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.