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Molly Malone

In Dublin’s fair city,
Where the girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she wheeled her wheel-barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, “Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!”
“Alive, alive, oh,
Alive, alive, oh,”
Crying “Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh”.
She was a fishmonger,
But sure ’twas no wonder,
For so were her father and mother before,
And they wheeled their barrows,
Through the streets broad and narrow,
Crying, “Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!”

(chorus)

She died of a fever,
And no one could save her,
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone.
But her ghost wheels her barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, “Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!”

EMT 6836

When I travel I love to photograph the small details of the daily life of the city, daydreaming about the people and their lives. Sometimes I wonder if I’m living the life someone else is dreaming about. And it makes me think that we took our daily routines for granted, all the stuff we see every day that maybe someone is longing to see and experience.

EMT 6836

Cuando viajo me encanta fotografiar los pequeños detalles de la vida diaria de la ciudad, soñando e imaginando la vida de la gente. A veces me pregunto si no estaré viviendo la vida con la que otra persona sueña. Y esto me hace pensar que damos por hecho nuestras rutinas diarias, todas las cosas que vemos cada día y que quizá alguien está deseando ver y experimentar.