As the afternoon shadows grew longer, I imagined the sun smiling at me, filling me with light and anticipation for the evening. My neighbor hadn’t disclosed our plans, but her smile suggested adventure. I mused about the possibility of having a frothy beer at a scenic overlook as night fell, perhaps dancing, or maybe visiting a gallery. I’d considered these activities before, but venturing alone into a foreign city always chilled my plans.
I pondered her earlier words about not knowing love. How could someone so free, caring, and beautiful not have been adored by someone? Unless she’s demi, I thought. Being demi, something I only came to understand in myself – that elusive forming a deep emotional connection before experiencing anything romantic – explained a lot about why some people seemed to connect differently, why they might seem distant or hard to read until that special bond was formed. Was she like that? Had she gone through life surrounded by admirers yet felt alone because she needed something deeper than what most offered? It made her all the more intriguing, a puzzle wrapped in kindness and mystery.
A knock on my door pulled me from my afternoon daydream. There she stood, radiant. Tapping a camera bag, she said, “First, we work.”
I smiled back, curiosity piqued. “Work? What kind of work?”
“You’ll see,” she cast a smile. “Are you ready for a night in the city?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
I nodded, a mix of nervousness and anticipation churning in my stomach. “Lead the way.”
Soon, we were walking down the cobblestones, the air filled with the scent of blooming jasmine. The warm breeze carried whispers of the bustling city, mingling with the distant sound of street musicians.
As we boarded the train to Lisbon, my neighbor pointed out the passing landmarks, her voice animated and full of life. She mentioned place names, switching from what she called language of the ancients, Latin, Arabic, and Portuguese. Where I came from, the oldest house is a few hundred years old.
Her enthusiasm was infectious. I found myself leaning closer, soaking in her stories and the vibrant sights outside the window. The train’s rhythmic clatter and the dusk’s light dancing across her face created a sense of magic.
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked, eager to know more.
She grinned, a mischievous glint in her eye. “We’re going to capture the soul of the city through my lens. And then, we’ll see where the night takes us.”
The city unfolded before us, a tapestry of lights and sounds beckoning us into its heart. The possibilities seemed endless, and for the first time in a long while, I felt truly alive.
She called out, “Look, that’s the Torre de Belém! And over there, you can see the Castle of São Jorge perched on the hill.”
In no time, we arrived at cavernous train station called Cais do Sodré.
