The Alfama Overlook: Infinite Retinal Burn...
I'd forgotten about this photo in the clamor and chaos of our final day in Lisbon. It was taken at the overlook nearest the flat where we were staying.
The horizon seemed less an azure caul than a thread through the infinite; the breeze was extraordinary - warm, reassuring. The ghosts of those old stones slithered past, whispering in Hassaniya and Latin, thinking of lost loves, the refrains of favorite Fado ballads, and, always, empty bottles...
(Click above for a larger version of the image.)
The horizon seemed less an azure caul than a thread through the infinite; the breeze was extraordinary - warm, reassuring. The ghosts of those old stones slithered past, whispering in Hassaniya and Latin, thinking of lost loves, the refrains of favorite Fado ballads, and, always, empty bottles...
(Click above for a larger version of the image.)
Comments