Portugal: 2 and half years later

 

Landed in the Lisbon Airport on a hot summer day. The place is empty, there are no people around.

 

This series of photographs report my travel back to my motherland, a tour made through places never visited not only since I left but since my childhood. I have built a romantic memory about my past life, that misleads me emotionally while away, now that divergent memory and the reality of things are colliding in front of me.

 

Something strange is floating in the air, as if something had happened in my absence. And it did happen in fact, life goes on when we are not present. But there is something else, as if time had moved in a different way, this was something unperceivable for me on that summer day. Couldn’t see people there, as if they had rushed out, I could still feel traces of them.

 

I can still feel the smells, the textures, as if I’m still a child smaller than everything else. It’s all still here but melting into something more tactile, there are fewer places where to hide.

 

Do we ever grow up?

Lisbon Airport, 2 and a half years later. It feels like everyone had left this piece of land.

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This statue still overlooks the city.

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Tagus River water moves calmly in a summer day.

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Boats float by themselves in the river, there is a strange silence in this city.

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Memories of family, memories of religion, dusty corners.

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Old remnants of family life.

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This room was once full of more then photographs.

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Family gathering.

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Beings are still here.

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Old grandmother house. It's not empty yet.

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Sun hits the old hidden corners.

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Textures of past christmas.

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Faded patriotism.

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Mountains are still up, houses are still there.

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Hanging memories #1.

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Hanging memories #2.

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Nature is slowing taking over.

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Once, I was a child here, I still remember the sounds of the animals in a cold a winter morning.

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He looks through the window of old traces.

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Morning sun.

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Quietness.

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