THE LAUNDRY LINE
The metro rumbles below and the sound carries up to the top floor of this 18th-century building with its facade clinging on to the remaining (ceramic tiles) Portugal is famous for. I gaze out the window in the living room of our apartment with its skinny balcony that barely fits a body sideways at the scenes of life below around Praça da Figueira. A tangle of class and ethnicities, tourists and locals, battery-operated tuk-tuks and trams intersect in riotous splendour.
