Lisbon is sweltering in the heat, at times, and I find myself longing more and more for cold ice-creams and showers, while I'm also adapting and pulling down my skirts as the sudden winds from the river sweep in and grab a hold of them, lifting them high. The old buildings in Alfama can be studied for as long as you dare stand in the glare of the harsh sun, and Baixa comes alive during the night, the slippery cobble-stoned streets filling up with sweeping skirts and wedge heels that work their way up and down the slopes. Last night, my mouth burned with the taste of ginjinha (cherry brandy), something I'm not keen on trying again; this morning, I let the vanilla custard of another paséis de nata melt in my mouth at Versailles by Saldanha this morning. Yesterday, as we walked the flat avenues down by the waterline, I licked up the slowly-melting coconut&strawberry ice-cream we'd gotten, before we went to a wine-tasting in the cool vaults of ViniPortugal. (The sweat that forms, the droplets that nest in the small of my back as I traverse this city.)
Our room is painted a bleak turquiose blue, the window facing an inner courtyard with pidgeons cooing as you nest in the thin sheets and blankets. I shower in cold, cold water each morning & afternoon, soaking my skin and humming Lykke Li to myself. My nails are painted a bright orange-red that almost glows against my pale fingers; my lips get massaged in aloe vera-balm each day before I step foot outside on the street. The nights are fragmented and kissful, the breezes long-desired.
( Lisboa. )
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
