Wednesday, October 17, 2018
It was an early morning in Portugal when I sat on a narrow stone stoep across from this small café just as it was coming alive for the day. A woman swept and washed the cobbled street around me and graciously brought me chair to sit on while I sketched. Three young (and handsome) trashmen smiled at me as they entered the café. An older woman, with a weather-hardened face, appeared with her soft-spoken husband. She was definitely in charge of the café and perhaps the street too. When the trashmen returned they laughed out loud upon seeing I had included their cart in my drawing. I lingered awhile, not wanting to forget any detail of the Porto story that unfolded in front of me.