12h15mt sacochila

Frederico was a chef by trade, but deep down, he
was an artist.
he mixed flavours the way a poet does with words _ first in his imagination, then on the plate.
the kitchen was his quiet stage, where every aroma
told a story, and every recipe was a love letter
to the world.
he glided through Lisbon on his blue vespa,
backpack on his shoulders and a light heart.
the city knew him well: the world seemed perfectly
seasoned. and he smiled
it was as if life kept reminding him of lightness
he was always searching for _ and that sweet
dizziness that comes with unexpected encounters.
on one of those golden-lit days that Lisbon wears
so effortlessly, he crossed paths with Clara.
by chance - or maybe not.
a mutual friend introduced them at a sunny café
near sé. Clara had just arrived from Italy,
staying in Lisbon for a while.
she had the curious gaze of someone ready to
explore, and the melodic accent of someone who
carried music in another language.
their eyes met, and for a moment, time paused.
seconds stretched into hours.
there was a beautiful kind of silence between
them, wrapped in shyness.
they started talking _ slowly, easily.
with each question, each smile, they gently
unfolded each other like a surprise box.
she spoke of Italy like someone describing a
dream.
he spoke of Lisbon´s flavours as if they were
characters in a story.
what began was an unlabelled kind of friendship,
light, fluid, and as beautiful as a clear sky
after the rain.
the days began to taste different.
every place felt magical
an ordinary street became a scene, a terrace
turned into a stage, a coffee became a ritual.
they laughed, they talked, sometimes they stayed
quiet, but even in silence, something passed
between them.
Clara noticed the phrase on his backpack early on.
one of those afternoons, sitting by the river
tejo, she said:
_ i like that phrase. it’s like the backpack is
saying it for you...
Frederico smiled.
_ maybe it is. some days, i really do feel like
that... like i just want to hold someone’s hand
and get dizzy.
she didn’t answer. but she smiled.
Frederico, who had always created through taste,
started to live through feeling.
and Clara, who had only come for a short stay,
began to realize that sometimes, it’s in the
unexpected encounters that time stretches out and
the soul finds home.

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