A Room with Graveyard Views
After a summer jumping from place to place, from sea to mountain, from mainland to the island, I decided to return to Porto. This time in a different context than the first time i lived in those steep streets.
The new normal had arrived, and I attempted one last nomadic move after the company I was working with decided we could only travel within our country. So my idea to go to Rome after Porto never happened… but Porto did!
I booked a small room in a coliving in the Fontainhas neighborhood, with views of the Prado do Repouso graveyard.
I’ve shared a flat almost all my life, so it was amazing to share time and space with strangers again. This time, I brought my Canon EOS 300 and a double film camera, loaded with Kodak Gold 200.
This second time in Porto was different and beautiful—more social, and it kind of showed me another way of experiencing the city.
I got into curious situations and met even more curious people. I chased sunsets from the highest points in the city, stumbled upon beautiful houses while descending stairs, shared joints, had breakfast with the dead, danced in the streets under the rain, drank whiskey, toasted with vodka, and sang “Country Roads, Take Me Home” at the top of my lungs.
Porto taught me, as Rupi Kaur’s poem says, to “fall in love with my solitude,” but also to feel comfortable with my intensity by being open to people. It invited me to walk without fear, to open up to strangers, to enjoy the process, to immerse myself in analog photography, and to discover all the women who live inside me.
My time there ended abruptly. I had to return to Madrid for a company meeting, left my crush with a “Maximo Decimo Meridio” voice… and, paraphrasing Shantaram, I kept walking.
