The heat is unusual, even the olive grove
looks tired, old trees gasping, waiting for
sundown. Yet the evening is still hot and
no breeze soothes tired leaves.
Every August, I tell myself that next year
I´ll go to Norway to cool down. But what
am I going to do there, it will be raining and
I never had an umbrella.
In my old home town, I will be walking up
and down streets trying to catch the old
magic, that perhaps wasn´t there in
the first place, there were moments when
on Sunday forenoon, I used to walk to my
aunt´s house, we smoked cigarettes, drank
coffee and ate coco macrons.
On my walks, I will only see young faces of
a new generation who have nothing in common
with me, and it will sadden me to see old
buildings torn down and replaced with new
shining office edifices …. And I will take
the first plane back to Portugal where my
elderliness is not a handicap.
