Tonight, as I stepped outside of the doors of Casa da Música, I felt a cold chill in Porto's night air. A telltale heart sign that summer is coming to a close. I was glad to be wearing jeans and have a jacket. I wasn't in the mood to hop on the subway just yet, so I hung around outside the venue for a bit, put on my earbuds, put Fleetwood Mac on full volume, and started walking.
Soon enough, walking turned into dancing and just grooving to my own beat coveting freedom right now, and it feels sublime. Some people behind me struck up a conversation with me, asking me what I was listening to, so I turned them on to the greatness of the band. We all parted ways a few blocks away, but it was a sweet encounter. I had a little smoke and continued on my way— not really knowing which way it was I was headed, and it didn't seem to matter. My only commitment was to get to a metro station before 1 am, so I started walking again and picked up the pace.
Once again, I wanted to get lost in walking around the city and enjoy some music. A memory of a song I haven't heard in years came to mind, "Hot Child in the City" (oh the late 70ss were a dream for music). Ear buds in once again and full blast. I walked past a blinking neon Super Bok light and cafe tables spilling out on the sidewalk. Why not. I'm in Super Bok territory now, so it seemed a befitting sendoff.
I made it back to my destination thinking I'd be tired, but no. Although late, the common area is bustling with foreign tongues. The solitary crew have their laptops. It inspired me to break mine out, so here I am pounding away at the keyboard with another Super Bok and the music is flowing.
I can't wipe the smile off of my face. It's been such a cathartic summer: beaches, mountains, villages, cities, friends, solo adventures, yoga studios, book stores... My mind is clear, and midnight is just a number.
I have a renewed faith in words, and I want this night to last forever. A ridiculous statement, but still...it's coming from the heart, and truth is pouring out. I'm usually so wrapped up in the physical and mental, so listening to my heart beat is awakening something. I'll stick around and see what materializes.
The night is like a river, beginning to flow ("Time Passages" by Al Stewart). Now the words are flowing from my head down through my arms to my fingertips and onto my screen. It's closing in on 1:30 am and reality starts to seep through. It's a long day of travel just to hop across the Atlantic.
As I try to convince my body, mind, and heart that the night is changing form and that it's time to get some sleep, I realize that my cup is full, and that this feeling will return in the morning and play itself out on repeat. My heart and fingertips have said all they need to right now. The ensuing silence will be incredibly earned. And Bob Dylan is singing about being a rolling stone. How does it feel? It feels like my last night in Portugal— heavy with the ending, but light with the knowledge that I lived every single second of it.
My Stevie Nicks Summer 2026 of wild freedom is complete.
My apologies for not re-reading and editing... Actually, no. I'm not apologizing.
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