That cypress forest near our first apartment in Alentejo.
The lighthouse facing the Atlantic, brave and lonely.
That narrow street in Lisbon with hundreds of windows bearing down on you.
The natural pools of Porto Moniz.
The cliff near Senj.
An old wooden bench in Esposende.
The wall of the church next to where my mother tried her first cigarete.
All these places exist at the same time even if in my head they have a season, a date, a colour and a reason.
Whenever I lay down and face the sky at night I try to imagine them all at the same time. United by this same sky.
I always fail to be omnipresent.