Tripping down narrow cobblestone streets in between sips of Moscatel, listening to Portuguese slip off surrounding tongues, the sibilant sounds of a language so sexy it lingers on the hips like a lover’s fingers… This is the flip side of Brazil…distilled races in every face, Moreno inflections of Catholic grace... I look at Lisboa and see a long unbroken line, a lush spectrum of fine wines, the treasure trove of words Saramago left behind, & so much history to unwind...
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