“Five hundred and sixty-eight souls,” the old woman muttered, her voice barely a whisper against the wind. “That’s all that’s left of Leitões.” A shiver ran down my spine. We stood at the edge of Leitões, a parish seemingly frozen in time. Despite the woman’s words, the streets felt strangely empty. Leitões, once a bustling heart of the region, now held onto its history with a quiet strength. It was officially designated as a historic parish until 2013, a testament to its rich past. Where were the echoes of those lives lived, loved, and lost? I yearned to hear their stories, to feel the cobblestones beneath their feet, to understand the weight of their absence. Perhaps in the silence, their memory resonated most clearly, a silent symphony echoing through the ages.
Центральный дом работников искусств
Step through the grand wooden doors of the Central House of the Workers of Art, and you’ll be transported to