Sunday, 8 September. 28°C, clear, wind from the Atlantic after 17:00.
Late wake — 9:51. Two photographs of the apartment courtyard, both at 10:04, one through the open window and one of the door he forgot to close. A breakfast that becomes a brunch that becomes a long second coffee. The phone is largely unused until 13:20.
A walk that follows no plan: from the apartment, downhill, along the river, back uphill, then sideways through Estrela. 11,408 steps. Five photographs over four hours — the kind of photographs a person takes when nobody is asking them to. A wall. A door. A cat. A particular blue that the eye keeps returning to.
Three songs played on repeat between 15:00 and 17:00, all by an artist he’d never listened to before this trip.
A long voice note at 18:36, after the wind picks up. He is thinking about whether he wants to stay in Lisbon for another month. He does not decide.
Dinner late. One photograph of bread, taken because the light was good.
Two years earlier, same date: Berlin, 12°C, very different mood, the same artist appearing for the first time in the listening history.