Lisbon is a city with a word for its own mood: saudade — a melancholy longing, present and absent simultaneously, the feeling of something beautiful that carries a trace of loss. The pale blue-grey wall in this photograph has something of that quality: cool, quiet, the color of Lisbon on an overcast afternoon. Into it, a single window: white-framed, dark inside, offering nothing back. The shadow it casts to the lower left is as precise as the window itself — the same shape, the same proportions, drawn in darker blue on the pale ground. The window twice: once in glass, once in shade. One real, one not, and both equally present in the frame.
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