Poem

Alfacinhas

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The town of Lisbon, unsurprisingly, is Porto’s rival; their geographic closeness creates shared qualities. Both coastal cities boast neighborhoods whose snaking alleys, fading

ochre facades, and ancient churches breathe medieval histories. While Gaia’s banks are lined with port-maturing lodges, Lisbon is home to fado’s melancholic airs,

performed in living room-sized restaurants that fill bellies with lore and steamed white fish. Just off of bumpy, cobbled roads, cape-clad tunas strum folk tunes till the city glows

with nightlife’s neon signage. Navy-black skies yield to dawn. Dense fog creeps in beside the trams whose nineteenth-century routes remain unchanged. The Tagus flows seaward as always.