I remember I used to draw a lot. It didn’t matter where I was standing, if it was raining or if it was freezing, most importantly, what mattered to me was that I drew my best.
I felt a great joy just doing, not competing with anything, to do this very private thing. I had stopped drawing when I moved away from Lisbon. I don’t know why but I felt that time moved differently.
Yesterday I found an old drawing. A drawing of my friend’s parents they own a cafe next to a park where they sell sonhos. Perhaps I would go back to drawing again.