Thoughts in Portugal

11 Jul

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November 2008

Those who work all the time and think that money makes them happy have no time to find delights in the little delight in life- they walk over a flower in the crack with their Prada heel.

Funny how in the winter time you can’t think about wearing any other colour than black and any other weight but warm, but slowly the weather does change and with it- you.

Sometimes I forget where I am. I can walk a whole block and not even realize it, I can pass many things before I stop and take a deep breath and ask, where am I, I am here not there in my thoughts or in that place. I look around and think ok, I am present.

While I was in Italy I felt as though the streets and buildings were concrete and there I was, all my atoms together in a foreign world like oil in water, but when in Portugal I felt as though my hair was the wind, my feet planted through the grass, my body the sea, and I blended into the city.

There was a boy next to me and we were friends, I could take his ear plugs and listen to his music like we had been friend travelling our daily route together. Through joking seriousness we ran through conversations, honesty met with a joyful twinkle of a little kid, playful are they that live by the sea- I will remember them well.

Don’t you just love it when you are smiling and you look over and someone is looking and smiling at you like a mom does when they look at their sleeping child, caring, wondering, and you both laugh and look down or away as if embarrassed of this intense moment but still like the lingering taste of garlic, the warm feeling of the smile resides.

Lisbon is the place for– I sink into it like a foot print in the mud, the perfect fit, the earthy feel, childish action- I can’t help but smile.

Even the poor, weighed down with her black torn shawls and sweaters, wrinkly face, thickened skin from nights in the cold was enjoying a chocolate pudding.

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