"Don't take a picture of my television!" said the owner of the chip shop where my flatmates and I stopped so that one of them could buy fried cod for the walk to the wine bar on Tuesday; this television was on the side of his building. "It's a lovely television," I told him. I'd already taken the picture. I was fairly certain he was kidding, though there's often no way to be sure.
I've seen three pairs of these eyes here. One was in town on the way to the wine bar. One was in town on the way home from the wine bar; one of my flatmates noticed it and said, "Hey, another pair of your eyes!" A third pair graces the back of the labyrinthine building that houses the university library and several major departments.
There's a tattoo parlor called West Coast Tattoo. My first response was to laugh. My second was to take a picture. My third was to think, well, yes: we are on the west coast. There's nothing between me and North America right now besides Ireland and a lot of Atlantic.