Eight a.m. Monday morning. The doors of Plámás open and in spills a collective of Galway life. Neighbours stop in on their way to work, dogs wait patiently for their morning puppuccino, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifts through the air. Exposed brickwork peeks out beneath white walls, above a coffee machine that hisses and steams. Coats get shaken off as tables fill and a buzzing chatter steadily builds. It’s a scene that has been fa…
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