---

Lisbon wakes with warmth.
Not just from the sun —
but from the tiles,
the smiles,
the music that spills into the streets
before coffee even brews.

I arrived just as the morning fog lifted.
Trams rattled down narrow lanes,
past walls dressed in azulejos —
blue and white stories frozen in ceramic.

The air smelled like espresso and sea breeze.
Locals moved slowly,
not out of laziness,
but respect for the rhythm of morning.

I followed a street up toward Alfama,
where every step opened a new view.
Pastel homes.
Open windows.
Fado drifting from a radio
somewhere behind laundry lines.

I stopped for pastel de nata
and coffee strong enough to write poems.

Sat on a step and watched the city yawn awake.

I opened 온라인카지노,
checked a score from the night before.
Then looked up —
Lisbon was already winning.

By noon, the sidewalks shimmered.
Tourists buzzed near Belém,
but I stayed local.
A hidden bookstore.
A musician in a tunnel.
A conversation with a baker
who taught me to say “obrigado” from the heart.

The light in Lisbon doesn’t fall.
It glides.

At sunset, I watched from Miradouro da Senhora do Monte.
The city glowed gold.
The river blushed.
And I let it all in.

Back at my apartment,
I checked 우리카지노,
not to escape the day —
but to thank it.

Lisbon didn’t demand my love.
It earned it
one golden moment at a time.