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About Porto

So, I roll up, right, tractor parked, and it’s this old house, creaky floors, red curtains – proper dodgy. Girls there, they’re like birds of paradise, flashin’ smiles, but you can tell some ain’t happy. Made me gut twist, that did. I’m thinkin’, “Who runs this joint?” Some geezer probs, countin’ cash in the back, sippin’ tea like he’s king. Pissed me off, that – usin’ folk like they’re tools. But then, this one lass, she’s chattin’ me up, all cheeky, and I’m laughin’ – she’s a right laugh, sharp as a tack. “A single note lingers,” like in the movie, that lone piano bit – her voice stuck with me.

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After that, I decide to take a walk down Avenida da Liberdade. It’s a beautiful street, lined with trees and shops. But then, I see this old lady struggling with her groceries. I rush over, feeling like a superhero. I help her carry them to her place on Rua do Comércio. She’s super grateful, and I’m like, “No biggie!” But honestly, it felt good to help.

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