it's a two or three paragraph story. Could be one of those you barely check on a sunday afternoon while enjoying the new massage chair your mother-in-law gave you on a not so far away Christmas. I was boy recently in love with a one of a kind girl i met on fresh afternoon in São Martinho do Porto. Summertime some may sing. A few months after the glorious beginning on a contrasting rainy afternoon she told between blood ,swet and tears that she was going to leave me to marry her old boyfriend. what ? (i still echo this question on my mind) When something like this hits you , there's not much you can do ... marry ? Like in the movies and everything ? A moment came in witch i found enough strength to leave the place ... walking aimlessly through some dirty old Lisbon streets. The endemic reaction was to phone call my previous girlfriend. If the current one feels she may marry the old one ... i think i may also call mine for a moment. I did it. "Come fast!" i screamed silently on the phone. She came with kisses to share, chocolates on her hands and an idea on her mind. Fado. Now's the time to go and cry yourself a river over a nice set of Fados.
That's something i learned that glorious fenix night on Cafe Luso in Bairro Alto. When you're down, dive even deeper until you find the elastic bed that will fire you high up again. On that night listening to wonderful songs and eating sweet chocolate i got myself togheter again. The old girl stayed forever and ever ... the one that left to marry somebody, was gone that very day. No turning back ticket. I kept a photo of her. One photo is all that she left behind on my blog.
"O fado nasceu um dia, quando o vento mal bolia ..."
Amália Rodrigues / Alain Oulman / José Régio
