Grabbing Lisbon with My Grubby Mitts

To call Lisbon a great place is to insult the beauty of this marvellous sunny city almost to an libellous degree. As soon as I arrived here, I knew that it was here that I was going to fulfill my God-given mission. Not only was it free from that punishing northern darkness that had been numbing my mind for so long-the city was close to the beaches where Europe's best waves for surfing splashed ashore.

I felt alive for the first time in along time. All my senses that had been numbed by the monotony of a grey city existence life burst violently into life.
I was blind, but now I could see. I felt reborn.

The next month was one the happiest of my life. Life was simple and life was great. Occasionally, I'd have another beer, and order some wonderful seafood with crabs, or have a surf in those cold wawes.

Why for God's sake was I and everyone else in Northern-Europe putting up with another hideous winter rabbiting about unimportant shit and getting stressed?

We spend our lives working in jobs that we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. No more of that.