Being confined in our family house throughout the worst period of the pandemic outbreak of Covid 19 forced me to revisit some of my childhood and early adolescent years and thoroughly relive some of the memories, making them surface either in a different light or the way they had felt then.
The beautifully carved ceilings of the Music room where I used to sit and play the piano as an infant looked as beautiful as ever ... I could almost hear the angels playing the various instruments as I looked at the fireplace.
Across the room the painted flowers on both the ceiling and the walls of our mother's consultation room came alive as did her imposing look ... the one she projected the day she got her medical degree and was painted live. We weren't witnesses to it but that stern look was present all the way through our early years.
I came across some old photos ... it touched me to look at Faye as a child and remember how high her expectations were as a young girl and how life so abruptly put an end to all that could have been and never was ... it equally touched me to look at my little Mia ... realising how theatre played such an important role in her professional life and how that was also so unexpectedely put to an end to ...
My own photo in Paris brought about the expectations I used to have in regards to travelling ... what it meant then and what it means now ...
As I was looking at some of my parents' old photos they inevitably made me think about their own expectations (or at least the ones they confided in me as having had sometime in the past) in regards to what they had expected their marital life to be and how it never was ... and how strongly their separation impacted their lives and ours ... as young children ...
I strolled around the quarter I once felt as being the centre of my life ... and how I barely identified myself with it now ... a few old buildings were left behind ... some of them still looked the same despite being "inactive" whilst others were repainted, readapted, renovated ... re whatever ... my feeling of belonging is no longer there, though.
As I was looking at one of the Chinese vases'details, the rough sea paintings, the religious sculptures and the tapestries that decorate the staircase to the first floor, the corridors of the first floor, the chapel and two of the bedrooms which I used to often stand in front of and "travel in" ...
The door to the outside was rarely used as an adolescent ... young ladies were supposed to be "protected" from any contagious influences ... I do not know how often I looked at it believing that maybe one day I would be gone never to come back ...
I made my way to the public garden where the female statues inevitably drew my attention ... they seemed "composed" and "dreamy" like ... "We miss love stories at every minute (...) " could be seen written along one of the wooden garden benches ... I wondered ...
Across the garden the tiled Court wall, whose images I know by heart ... even with my eyes closed. They have been there since I recall and for some sort of reason they have always caught my attention.
Some signs on dogs and dogs' owners sense of responsibility had been put up and I quite liked them. The fact that they were close to the court premises made me smile.
On the way back home The river mouth and Praça Nova (New Square) with its old façades.
The tiny little fish slipping through one's hands made me think on how sometimes people feel or convince themselves they can easily catch you with or without the need of using of a hook ... or bait ... it might be true ... and yet it might not ...
Once home and as I watched the statue of the archer at the foot of the staircase and the bell past images surfaced ... the calling out for dinner ... the light leading the way as the male made their way to the upper floor after their long nights out ...
... images ... objects ... details ... textures ... a table cloth I embroidered as a young girl ... all of them connected to the past ...
I am out again ... I can't help but look at flowers ... flowers I come across at every step I take. I don't think I had ever realised they were everywhere ... the presence of the river seemed omnipresent then ... the water ... the boats ... the piers ... the Museum of tiles, whose walls are covered in Dutch style tiles that were brought ashore when a ship sank off the coast ... the lighthouse that once used to be hit by waves and now stands in the middle of a road ... the mansion houses pertaining to people associated with sea activities ... the horse show competitions that no longer are ... but in blue tiles along the wall of the church yard ... the church where I was christened ... "my" kindergarten ...
Memories ... just like flowers ... planted everywhere ...
I had to touch every little object kept in my mother's wall cabinet, from the colourful carved boxes from all over the world to the miniature Chinese clay figures, the fans ... the dolls and those hundreds of tiny objects I used to look at as a child. I knew where each of them came from ... and that curiosity I used to hold onto many years back paved the way to a much wider curiosity in years to come. It took me around the world ... to some of the places those same objects had been fabricated in ... the metal with incrusted stones ... the lacquer ... the ivory ... the infinite world of handicraft ... the world beyond my inner world ...
... Some old pictures brought some old wounds ... the sense of preference ... or what might have been perceived then as preference ... I can understand it now ... it hurts no more ...
... Another explosion of colour ... the bright coloured petals ... an infinate myriad of colour combinations ...
As I was admiring some paper flowers and an intricate Chinese village made out of carved stone in one of the first floor rooms I came across one of my all time favourite children's books - the Hans Christian Andersen's tales illustrated by João da Câmara Leme ... the look of it made me emotional ... despite not having become well known, I'd like to be able to let Câmara Leite know how important his sketches were for me as a child ... how they added this different touch to the depth of Christian Andersen's stories ... how they made me dream beyond the pages ... and how much they influenced my style of sketching over a particular period of time ...
Heading towards Buarcos along the river shore I came across some rather unique flowers ... and the more I looked at them the more I found them exquisitely beautiful ...
Details ... more details ... interspersed by flowers ... flowers everywhere along the beach ...
Back home some photos of the last Christmas with "tia Lena"catch my attention ... Mum and Mia seem not to look much older despite the years ... but how grown up is my nephew !...
The following days saw me venturing out one hour every day ... in every possible direction, so as to revisit the long gone past ... and the confirmation that not much is "physically" left ... apart from some old buildings ...
... but maybe one day (talvez um dia) I'll seal the overcoming process of some of my childhood emotional wounds initiated now ...
