The awakening city

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After a rather hectic night, I got home around 3.00 am, and felt like calling a good friend of mine, who like me was one of many children of the night. Strangely enough, he invited me to take a coffee so we could enjoy a more comfortable than that which the phone was limited in providing.

At 4.30 a.m., we were on our way towards the airport to chat about whatever issues would come across our worrying thoughts. We rumble on about life's little madness that strikes us daily. Some of them gone, others present or even those yet to be, we were touched by the fools sickness of two friends of the night stars who wanted to break free from the usual routine.

Around 6.00 a.m. we moved on towards a different coffee shop closer to the centre of Lisbon. There we enjoyed a calm breakfast while witnessing the first drifters of the dawn, introducing themselves to the first of cup of the precious stimulating reviving caffeine. Only then would they set out to endure whatever life had installed for their following hours.

My friend's eagerness led us to Torel's garden, which opens daily at 7.00 a.m. It was impressive to witness the quiet Lisbon, a few minutes before daybreak, with all the stillness of elements. Beneath the garden's trees I absorb the immenseness of the dawn while the morning mist danced around countless streets and avenues, making this personal experience gain a more mystic quality.
That moment, I wondered so much about life, while the eyes of my city stared back at me, like a mother gazing the peace of her children's sleep on, while they are venturing in their dreams. Lisbon is quite an impressive mother; even if the abuse of the years gives her a more austere look than her soul transpires. Lisbon's all about past and future, for all those who are in her present.

By 8.00 a.m. my friend's thirst for different landscapes took us to the opposite side of one of Lisbon's main avenue, towards another, yet smaller, garden. With the first rays of sunshine blocked by the morning dew and the grey veil of clouds that hover about us, we appreciated old statues in the "Bairro Alto" garden. The sad deterioration on the outside look of the faces from past heroes, deposited in me the sensation that Lisbon's children might not care for their aging mother with the proper respect that one's mother deserve.

After filling our eyes with visions of wonder and amazement of a most precious dawn, we headed out towards the Lisbon's multi-cultural downtown. In it, I lost the sensation of being in Portugal, by entering in a kind of limbo identity. The "luso" flavor was replaced, mainly by the many countries of the East, from where people came carrying hope of success on a safer ground than their own. The city of Ulysses became home for many that blended in Lisbon's identity, adding their social and cultural difference, making that spot truly unique.
By that time, the majority of mortals that give life to this capital, were wondering on to their current duties, like a pack of coordinate ants that have a specific role in today's play of life.

From gardens, to the twilight corners of the city, I was in an awaken dream with so much to absorb, that it's with great difficult that I dwell with my inspiration in finding the right words that can make justice to the many different types of beauty that cover the awakening city.


Listening: Frida's soundtrack - Elliot Goldenthal
Watching: Cyrano de Bergerac with Gerard Depardieu
Reading: "O Homem que Mordeu o Cão 2 - A irmandade do Canideo" - The man that bitted the dog 2 - The brotherhood of the canine.

cocasman@zmail.pt