Living Lisbon : Casanova

The world keeps moving, indeed, and it surprises me sometimes.

It have been a couple terrible years. I had never cried so much, felt so alone and so lost in this world as in the las two years. Moving to Lisbon was, so far, the best decision I could have done in order to heal myself: my eyes haven’t felt tears for a while, I haven’t been kept awake at night thinking about how over my life is, almost before it had even started.

This week, without any prediction of it, I got invited to a dinner with a former colleague. I went to the gym and prepared for what turned out to be one of the most amazing, peacefull and happy nights ever.

I have been trying to impress him for some months now and I know I have always been unsuccessful. And I knew why all along: because I wasn’t me – I was a sad and unhappy version of me trying to pretend I was happy and joyful.

I have no idea if I impressed him this time. But the truth is, I don’t really care. I didn’t even care! For the first time in a very long while, I was trully me: I was genuinely happy and joyful for the first time around him and – funny fact! – it was the time I felt the most comfortable and relaxed near him.

We went to thins nice italian restaurant in Alfama called Casanova. I remember the staff being very nice and the space very pleasant. I have a vague idea of the food being delicious, but to be fair, I didn’t pay much attention to it. Shamefully, besides my very interesting company and the neverending conversation, the one thing I may stress is the prosecco with cremolatti, passion fruit flavour.

(I have no photos. My focus was somewhere else that evening)

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