I was 18 when I moved to Lisbon. I wasn’t really sure who I wanted to be, and I mean that quite literally. I was aware that, having just left my home country, I had a chance to choose who I wanted to be, in a sense. Of course I couldn’t just throw away all my baggage and persona, a lot of it was going to be part of who I was no matter what, but somehow it felt like a chance to pick new hobbies, new habits, things like that.

I grew up in a farm, a farm in the middle of nowhere. Well, of course it is somewhere, 22° 02′ 46.2″ S 43° 02′ 38.2″ W to be exact, it’s just that “where” isn’t the question to be asked, because it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because it could’ve been anywhere; I could’ve grown in a farm in China, Alabama, or France, it wouldn’t make much of a difference because those are just names; home is home.