Lisbon was said to have been founded by Ulysses. It was an ancient Roman city, then a palatial city of the Moors, with a hundred thousand souls living in the hills of the Alfama, while Paris was still a small and frozen town. Theatre of the terrible earthquake of 1755, which, people in the streets of Chiado still say, was felt as far as Africa.
I landed here one evening last February and remembered the sweet smell of the city of Pombal. Cars that smother in the night. Prostitutes that swarm in the avenidas. The old buildings that collapse and become replaced by new ones rendered with a weird vision of modernity.
I walked the city and tried to capture with images a weekday in Lisbon. Some postcards, evincing a spontaneous eternity. Some that repeat thousands of muffled words. That say nothing, but let me still dream.
Tags: Exploring the City, Lisbon, Portugal, Streetlife