These are the memories I wish to keep

Breakfast Club and one-hour lunch breaks. Bacalhoa rosé wine, Out Jazz. Warm summer evenings by the river, rescuing a sea star at Troia beach. Taking the ferry. Cycling with Steven and Jomo. Armelle’s talent of always choosing the most terrible drink.
In the end, it’s the small things that matter most.

‘Environmental Artivist’ is what I called myself for a while. Sometimes labels help you make sense out of non-sensible things. Beach clean-ups took off then. Armelle joined too and we had ice cream afterwards. Steven got into bitcoin, bought a bike and convinced me to get one too. No more plastic cups at parties, who cares if one or two glasses break?!

Edited on a tiny iPad, shot with half broken cameras: jungle life is bitter sweet. The extreme humidity great for the skin, but not friends with your electronic devices. Walking in clouds of mosquitos. Mangoes growing in the garden, monkeys jumping around your house. All the fruits have so much flavour. Why do people say Ayahuasca tastes bad, it reminds me of childhood candy. 

I am afraid snakes will eat our cats. I wonder if Chullachaqui is real. I wonder if I could live like this for the rest of my life? Cold shower, no flushing toilet, will I ever marry? No electricity in my jungle house, no train station, no bike. Waking up with the rising sun, the smell of rain, the cats left a half-chewed up rat under my bed, I will miss these thunderstorms, I miss the laughter.