Back in the city.
After being in the country, your senses are limber, more attuned to smells and sounds. Some of it is beautiful.
The streetcar, late at night, empty, its windows transparent, framing the city. Outdoor cafes, full of people at 10 p.m, awash in the light of streetlamps, headlights, candles (by then, on that island, you were usually fast asleep, and so was everyone else).
The air is dirty, viscous, you feel it clogging your pores.
You smile at people, out of habit. Sometimes, they smile back, surprised.
The city is full of your worries.The city is full of abundance, you can get organic peaches, vinho verde, lattes, Vietnamese food, croissant, dumplings, churassco chicken, newspapers, any time.
The city is full of art. The city is green, it is concrete, it is brick; it is excessive, tumultuous.
You had a reprieve, you are grateful.