Pêro’s face hardened. He ground his teeth.
Was it only yesterday that he and Rafa had the unbroken parts of the tile shipment delivered, destined for a place the ship’s messenger claimed: “…was the end of the world, Fort São José of the Rio n***o, Brazil...” Was this not the end right here in Lisbon?
Was this not the end right here in Lisbon?He stared at the Tagus River and outlying countryside spotted with plumes of smoke and fire. Where are you Paulinha? Girls? Rafa and your family? The men of the shop? What of our home?
Where are you Paulinha? Girls? Rafa and your family? The men of the shop? What of our home?Smoke drifted through the door well. Pêro peered in the window of the home where they’d taken refuge, discovering a dismantled kitchen hearth and toppled candlesticks. Lisbon wa
