<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=473535" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Cascais Portugal</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cascais, Portugal. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">First day of summer both winter and spring, full of rain; we are visiting her mother’s <br>resting place, a hole in a wall with a glass door that has a flimsy lock; easy to break in to<br>but who would want too? Her mother, born in Kinshasa, Congo, but upheaval forced <br>her to leave; now she rests in Cascais, Portugal far from her native land. The bible on<br>top of the coffin is full of tiny holes soon the book will be a pile of dust<br> <br>While my wife pray I go for a walk, beautiful day and Cascais has a lovely bay. There are <br>sailboats and a few yachts in the bay one of them belongs to Prince Albert of Monaco, <br>he likes Portugal, the local paper enthuses. Indeed, aren’t we lucky? She joins me, says<br> “I don’t like boats and I don’t like the sea, my first husband took me on a sailing trip in <br>lake Lugarno, I was so sick they had to set me ashore.” We turn our back to the bay, <br> her mother and walk back to the car. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I remember a winter night in the North Atlantic Ocean, giant waves came crashing on <br>deck taking the railing and lifeboats away. Three ships sank that night with irrelevant<br> cargo onboard. No survivors. “Yes dear, the sea is a monster if it doesn’t takes your <br>body it takes your soul.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Oskar+Hansen">Oskar Hansen</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=473535" data-title="Cascais Portugal de Oskar Hansen" data-description="Cascais, Portugal. First day of summer both winter and spring, full of rain; we are visiting her mother’s resting place, a hole in a wall with a glass door that has a flimsy lock; easy to break in to but who would want too? Her mother, born i..."></div> </div> </div>

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