Culture Night is a nation-wide celebration of Irish art, culture, & heritage, with hundreds of participating venues opening up their doors to host a programme of late night entertainment, all of which are entirely free. Yesterday marked it’s thirteenth year running and it’s biggest one to date, with a line-up so vast that choosing how to manoeuvre around it and fit it all in was near impossible.

Amongst the trad sessions and the bongo playing and the live graffiti workshops, was a lovely evening of poetry and prose presented by The Open University in my favourite Dublin bookshop – The Winding Stair. During the open-mic session, some wonderfully talented creative writers took to the platform to share their pieces with an attentive gathering of culture-hungry city folk. There was one writer, one poem, and one particular piece from that poem that stood out for me most, one that I’ve thought a lot about since. As I attended the event in a hazy, red-wine fuelled befuddlement, the name of that writer and poem is lost on me as is the exact words from the piece, but I do know it was a poem from a mothers perspective about her son and it went a little something like this….

“I confiscated the pens, the pencils the paints, the paper and the crayons,

Only to find him take a block of charcoal to my favourite blouse.”

It made me think about childhood, and how the imagination of a child can never and SHOULD never be tamed. How children are bursting with creative genious, always finding fun and play in constraint, and how they will always find a way to unleash their beautifully colourful minds on the world. This is something that should be carried right through to adulthood rather than it dwindling with age.

Definitely one of my many highlights from Culture Night 2017. Big love to everyone involved in the whole programme – a truly lovely evening full to the brim with nothing but positive vibes.



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