Lisbon cemetery of pleasures or ‘Cemitério dos Prazeres’ reminded a bit of Parisian necropolis of Pere Lachaise. There are the same white stone tombs, roads and fork, the same feeling of the silent city surrounded by the noisy metropolis.
When you leave the depth of Lisbon colorful streets and reach the seafront it is clear that this is another secluded little world. As if the city is afraid that the water will wash away his paint and so left this kind of neutral territory — a pure white strip of stone saturated with the sun. And wherever you find your place to sit on the shiny surface you feel vibration spreading from the King of the Bay — 25th of April Bridge.
Ah, Lisbon … probably the farthest point of Europe that I have visited.