Back in August, when the sun still rose high in the sky, we gathered our things and travelled, aimlessly, without a destination in mind. I mean, we had planned to go as far as Vilar formoso, like we always do when we're in Badamalos for the sole purpose of stocking up on the smoked Spanish Pimenton, we seem to live off in this house.
I wasn't expecting it's energy and sounds, which seemed to resonate within its maize of alleyways and terracota walls. Nor was I expecting its beautifully framed balconies, encased in old glass and lined with colourful flower pots. And those wooden doors, so old, so filled with history. Somehow, this old town managed to encapsulate it's richness, it's tradition. And someday, we'll make our way back there. For some of it has remained engraved within me... xxx Stella