Tuesday, February 11, 2014
Lugares: os nomes
A hunger. When I stepped out of the taxi that morning it was cold and the streets were almost empty. In the still moist street I could hear my shoes tapping at the pavement while I headed to the work site. I had dreamed of Évora the night before: the road that took me there, the lone tree sitting on the top of a hill. Daisies, pervincas covering the hill side, ervas-divinas, Laura smiling. With the whiff of that remembered countryside the sidewalk by my side now felt elevated, paved with well worn-out cobblestones, life pushing out through the in-betweens despite the uncountable steps. I thought of Madredeus, Oxalá. I wanted a hug. A warm, uncompromising, all-encompassing, fully loving, wordless embrace.