Behind the Facade

Behind the Façade Behind the Holyday Inn near the bus station used by we the masses and immigrants, there are streets of houses kept in the gloomy mode of semi-poverty and cheap wine. I walked these streets windows shuttered, here and there a small grocery shop run by Asians how they make a living Is a wonder, cafes too I saw nearly went into one but it looked so filthy I changed my mind, but did buy a can of coke in the Asian`s shop We had been to the giant old hospital call -Ca Curry- and it was old and decrepit, yet doctors and nurses struggle on no money is spent on National Health now that we are in the grip of neoliberalism. She has bad hips and the wait for our bus was three hours hence my excursion into the streets of boredom a part of Lisbon no tourist would wish to see, no anyone famous had lived here and “Fado” was flaking walls and peeling doors. Back at the bus station I found in a corner a second-hand book shop bought a book of a prose poetry and got one for free, I sat beside her, tried to read Portuguese and thought it takes an Indian person to try selling poetry in Iberia.