Tonight was art on walls and paintings with thick brush strokes embodying the ebb and flow of waves before they crash. It was meandering up and down city streets, around corners and having a free slice of pizza in the park; free because the restaurant was closing for the evening and that is the Portuguese way.
Tonight was saying yes to an invitation to a local bar with live music. A bar no bigger than a living room, with small stools and a chess board on a square wooden table. The lights are dim and there are art books cluttered on shelves. Two guitars, two voices, one melody. She sings and the words I don’t know, but the rhythm I do. Their voices intertwined in some untold story that resonates with the room. It vibrates with smiles and closed eyes, breathing in thick layers of tune. When the song is done and we’ve returned to the room, we rub our hands together, a milder form of clapping, to show appreciation for our journey home.
Tonight was creating space for the rest of the world to rush in. For people, beautiful people, and the universal way we all sway when we’re carried by the depth and realness of a voice, a sound, a something that draws us completely in.
Oh to be drawn in. Completely.
I’ve been writing short poetry while working remotely and traveling, which you can find here.