“Lisbon is a living postcard. It’s art in motion. The swallows keep coming. They hover, stay, love, and then depart again. The jacarandas bloom twice. The hills cut through the sky. The houses are the eternal painting of Maluda. Up high, the Carmo. Which needs a new dawn… To open the windows, to reveal itself, and let go…
Lisbon, restless, says to you: Oh, Carmo! Come on, lad. Bring me your dawn. I wait for you!”