Fernando Pessoa’s Lisbon of Disquiet

by Steven Hermans
I was working on a farm in the south of Portugal when the idea to visit Lisbon suddenly erupted from my brain. Just a small spark in the cerebral cortex, I thought, nothing more than a splash in a dream about the ocean. I was wrong. Like red-hot lava it spread over my mind's day-to-day operations, filling the space between my ears with images of rigid street patterns, trams and computers, and crowds of well-dressed people. All this fresh air and healthy exercise was getting to me. I wanted something I didn't have.
I was thinking of leaving.
In my backpack lived a copy of The ...