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About Porto

“Turn off the lights,” I growl once. Dark hides weakness, like Georges in film. Happy? When knots pop, stress bleeds out. Exaggerate? Sure—felt like bear wrestled me. Sarcasm? “Oh, relax me, da, genius.” Still, useful—back’s steel now, not rust. Next time, I watch *them* closer. Cold. Calculated. Brevity. Finis.

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Finally, we wrap up, and I’m feeling like a champ. I made some good sales, and the crowd’s pumped. But then, I step outside, and it’s pouring rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m laughing, though, because this is just how my life goes. I’m dodging puddles on Rua da Liberdade, thinking about how I need a new umbrella.

Art and culture centre with bright red walls by Future Architecture Thinking