In the late eighties, the building was the target of a deep architectural intervention and there was a scaffold that came from the top of the wall to what is currently the largest beach pool and in what I decided to call an outbreak of juvenile unconsciousness, I started to rise the tube where the cement slided before the puzzled look of my brother and the pleading gestures to descend from my new friend. Gradually there I was climbing the fear and when I reached the top, almost incredulous with my own audacity, I might add, stated in full lungs to shout that I would not leave and they had to come get me and so, one by one, more or less upset my companions followed my dangerous example. Laughter and euphoric joy of relief echoed through the night to celebrate the auspicious beginning of this our adventure. After recovering our breath, facing the main building facade all that was enough so the door would open was just a little push and we come in to an almost unrecognizable space, somewhat disappointing, full of building materials and waste. Without much ado we went up to the first floor where the girl from the farm served as a guide, showing us her old room, the parents dormitory and her sister's which I did not know then and no longer lived with her, the living room and the old kitchen. It was a trip back in time that recalled her the days of idleness in which they played in the gardens of the rocked farm by the constant chirping of birds and the breeze laden with salt that beated the foliage of the leafy trees. During stormy weather, unlike other children, instead of counting sheep to fall asleep, they told the waves lapping against the wall to combat insomnia. She also remembered the lonely young man who appeared always to play sad songs on his guitar only at full moon and the well audible sighs of lovers and other more strange couples seeking the blackness of rocks that frequently were driven out by her father, for obvious reasons. Already the dawn threatened to rupture when we decided to terminate our tour and we left thru the other wall that faced the main road, but not before launching one last grin for that it was no longer a place full of mysteries, but rather what became one pages of the memorial of a friendship. Happy birthday Quinta do Revoredo!
