Your smell of cigarettes, the smoke bringing up thoughts and ideas. The madness of dreams and plans recited by your mouth, and the faith that everything would be fine eventually. The laugh and the holy presence of poets we would read out loud. That atmosphere. Sipping a tea or drinking a cold beer; the dialogues we've had are still so fresh in my memory. We had the whole world just for us, at least it seemed like we did have. (at Lisbon, Portugal) https://www.instagram.com/p/BxpS_mpnrD5/?igshid=nkbch1xsf3q5















