E continua a ser lindo. E hei-de lá voltar.
(Para quem não conhece, fica aqui.)
As a child, I used to spend my Summer holidays at Sao Martinho do Porto. We used to climb the dunes and then rolled down; my dad used to take me on his shoulders to cross the river when the tide was high. We collected mussels, clams, shells, whelks with odd shapes. I spent a few birthdays here and almost always had storms by that time. Once we were up to no light and no more than the candles on my birthday cake.
It still is so beautiful. And I shall return there.
(For those unfamiliar, it is here.)