No beard (just a scarce one, or CIA would take me in as Taliban… you know). No bag, no smell, no destiny – just fooling around… or maybe not.
The place is Caminha, a bordering line with Spain and the sea. Worked there for a year before going to East Timor as Volunteer.
Someone asked before – “How to return to the routine after opening our soul?”…
With Love I may guess… I have no other answer.
Lots of questions about “who” or “what” I have found during these days of truth, faith, hope… and devotion.
People asking about what could I possibly mean when I told that – now – I knew love exists…
Well – no easy or magical answer here… the road of Man is to believe in each moment; is to nourish that gift in each second; is to offer devotion and truth to the bliss of being touched by love’s grace. This is a “camino” of life, this is an oath to the very foundation of our existence – to discover, accept and worship that love which makes us in to being.
Now – for those who don’t know me as I use to be on my normal “camino” of life: here are some pictures of day life places.
(my way to work - this avenue leads to the health center in which I work - it's 8 in the morning and the day is good for walking)
(This is my "meditation" rock, or the place in which I had lunch - it's a small iland in the River Minho called "Castelinho", and it's near by - here in Cerveira, where I live. As the "Petit Prince", I love to see the sun set here - just walking a bit and I'm there)
This is my favorite beach – it’s called "Moledo" – and it’s less than 10 mins by car from where I live. The mount in front is in Spain – and has Celtic settlement ruins – it’s called "Saint Tegra". I usually walk on the sand that is on the right of the picture, and then stand on the rocks until the sun-set. The waves on the rock remind me of some ancient secret that I almost grasp with my wandering mind… but the heart knows for sure, my brain is the one that simply doesn’t get the message
As the blue fades in to silver, the secret of the lady in the waters becomes clearer… sometimes hard as rock, sometimes flown as the waves, sometimes…
Hemingway would know… just those who die of love would know… I asked this old man, which was the secret of his sea… and he told me…
This is the “Praça da República” square… in my beloved Viana do Castelo. I spend hours and hours in here – staring at people passing by, reading my latest book, tasting some coffee and cake… The picture is in Christmas, so – now in Spring and Summer – the square gains even more life and color
A grey day… this is Santa Luzia, in Viana – a hilltop with a replica of the “Sacre Coeur” of Paris and a Celtic settlement ruin next by. It’s a sacred place that I visit quite often. There are sacred moments that are silver, others even gold, some others are grey – but all of them sacred nonetheless.