How could it be alien, this brother side of ocean?
So many of the young I'd see in Grafton Street, pushing just the same with open Irish faces, loud voices, have here a quieter fashion, less in-your-face tattoo, neon hair, body piercing, nasal, navel studs. Weather, this raw edge marking winter/spring discourages baring but the minimum, and layered clothes show the continental climate, the north Atlantic drift.
Slow bullet train, Acela, rocking on its rifled rails runs trajectory through dark industrial areas, slums as well as suburbs, exurbs, new England homes to die for each with its flagpole standing, flag high or at halfmast.
The wilderness is beautiful, much of the coast and marshland, rich in birds differing only in scale from all I love at home - but Gulliver big. It is this scale makes all the difference, old glory, the power, the kingdom.