When the short days of winter came, dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street.
by James Joyce
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In the winter months, the days shorten, and dusk descends quickly, often before we finish our evening meals. This change casts a somber atmosphere over our surroundings, with the houses appearing darker and the sky taking on a shifting violet hue. The street lamps cast a weak glow, trying to pierce the cold, biting air.
Despite the chill, we find joy in playing outside until our bodies are warm, our laughter resonating in the quiet streets. This contrast between the vibrant life of our play and the stillness around us highlights the seasonal transition in Dublin, reflecting both a sense of childhood exuberance and the quiet beauty of the winter evening.
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