Page 78 - Wake Up and do Your Thing

WAKE UP AND DO YOUR THING
"Try this," he said as the owner dropped a couple of clean glasses and plate of potato and codfish fritters between us. Thomas filled the glasses and sat down across from me in front of the open window. It was so bright outside I couldn't see his face, just a halo around his head from the backlight. The wine was making me woozy.
"I can't spend the winter here," I said. “I looked myself in the mirror this morning and decided I don't want to go back to England just to sell advertising again.” He nodded and looked away. “Tomorrow morning I’m getting a lift to Lisbon with Carlos, the fado singer guy; he’s driving back to continue his military service.”
“And what are you going to do in Lisbon?”
“Make a fresh start.”
“And who do you know in Lisbon?”
“No-one. Not yet. I’ll get a room and see what happens. Like I did here. I’ll do my thing.”
“Cheers.” Thomas tipped his glass at me. “And what’s that?”
The truth was, I didn't have a clue. I longed for guidance, like a wanderer lost in a sea of possibilities. But amidst the doubts, a small flicker of hope remained. I realized the importance of finding my own unique purpose, something that would give meaning to my days. I wanted to discover what truly resonated with me.
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