Right away I took to the marble alleyways of Lisbon. Narrow and twisting they carry sound like no other place I've heard. Crisp. Clear. Alive! I had twenty-four hours to explore by myself before meeting up with a friend for the rest of the trip.

Winding my way through the city, I came upon this scene: a disheveled woman, collapsed on the ground singing, people gathered around supporting her as she stood up.

"Oh, this must be a performance piece." I thought, a bit jaded from spending time around artists.

I walked right past, looking for something to record.

But then I turned around, reconsidered and hit record.

I walked slowly past the scene, the woman now standing and pleading with whomever was listening.

This wasn't an actual "performance" per se, but what I believe to be an expression of deep grief practiced since Ancient times. A lamentation.

I stopped. She continued her way around me and across the square. Her voice growing distant, she disappeared down the marble alleyway.