Orhan Pamuk, My name is red
Photo taken in Águeda last Sunday
Mr. Alexandre used to work here, from 1962 until he died in 2016.
From the street, looking through the window, it doesn’t look like this place is abandoned. He might come back. Someone might come back for their bespoke suit.
If you read Portuguese, please head to Blog dos Alfaiates, Mr. Alexandre’s story is there along with other stories about other masters of elegance.
Photo: Alexandre Alfaiate, Praça Coronel Pacheco, Porto
After a nervous smartphone breakdown, the cloud has been generous enough to give me back some pieces of what it seems to have been my recent life.
Memory, hither come by William Blake
A bridge of silver wings stretches from the dead ashes of an unforgiving nightmare
to the jeweled vision of a life started anew.
Aberjhani, The Bridge of Silver Wings (2007)
I could have chosen any of the ones in Porto, but Stari Most was the topic of conversation over coffee today. Some bridges keep you together. No matter what.
Mostar, April 2017
S.João in Fontainhas, striving to stay the same
We have not long to love.
Light does not stay
Siena, May 2017
and many of the detours are seductive.
David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest