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Mornings in Lisbon

Oh, yes. The adventure started. Wandering around early morning streets, slowly recognizing patterns of tiles and Portuguese names. Choosing alleys with my nose. The sweet smell of freshly watered plants takes me to a park. Angel's trumpets and massive aloe veras are the setting for the beginning of a sunny day in a city that speaks to my heart. So many memories have been created here, it's hard not to feel at home.

Rows of colourful houses unfold before my eyes as I follow my feet. Every corner holds a surprise, a stimulus that tickles my brain. The feeling I've been here before, the smell of coming home. Of knowing I used to lived here, or visions of settling here in the future. Maybe it's just a dream. Reality seems to stay in one place as I keep walking and take unexpected turns. The reflection of the sun on the white mosaic tiles makes me see stars.

I look down and catch a glimpse of my dirty shoes and muddy coat. Souvenirs of planting bushes and picking veggies from the garden. I tried to wash and scrub my hands but the earth wouldn't leave. So I decided to not even try and clean my shoes. And Lisbon, with all her parks and flower filled squares, doesn't care. She likes people in every state they find themselves in. All made up and brushed off, smelling like the party from last night, straight from the country side, straight from the airport, or just straight lost.

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