Winter in Portugal the landscape is grim and introverted. The paths are slippery after frequent rain, the forests impassable. People stay in bed. Smoke lingers in the street and mixes with the clouds at the end of the village.
It feels almost medieval: the world is barren and inhospitable, in shimmering damp churches hang paintings of forgotten saints with mountain landscapes in the background where you can wander around all the way to heaven.
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