Intendente

The wind started up

gently

erratically 

without rhythm


Lisbons' skies ushered in the darkening clouds

of imminent rain

then teased us all

with brief, sudden rays of sunlight

that soon, we knew, would disappear all together

Largo do Intendente hung with a haze of muttered chatter

its murky undercurrent weaved patterns 

from tables to benches to doorways and alleys

Behind each door

stories, I sensed, as intricate as the cobbled streets outside


Lisbon, Portugal // 29"03"16

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