A love letter to Porto, one of my favorite cities in the world. For me, the São Bento railway station has come to represent the anticipation I've always felt upon returning.
The populated sea ebbs and flows, occasionally washing over into the streets. Anticipation and expectation resonate, reflecting against the horizon, resting at the shores of insistent ablutions,
as foam surges forward into a polyphonic frenzy indifferent to its own wayward crest. The roar of expanse, careens about, sounds of street vendors,
listless whispers of evening trains groans of restless motors tapestried in stubborn expectation
Of the day, the month, the season, and the time, and the hour, and moment
the country, the place,
of succinct saudade. From my lonely vantage, I cast my nets feeling the tides of your absence recede
Of weary glances and half-dusted memories,