And as our energies mix and begin to multiply, everyday situations, they start to simplify. So things will never be the same between you and I, we intertwined our life forces and now we're unified.

A couple of days ago, it was either very late at night or really early in the morning, and I just couldn't find any sleep whatsoever. It wasn't even like I wasn't feeling tired, because I was, but something weighed me down and prevented me from drifting off to slumber land. There was a weird kind of energy in me, and I didn't even know where it was coming from. After all, I had been feeling pretty much lethargic for the past few weeks, something that served only to compound the onset of my misanthropic feelings even further. But something deep within me stirred, and it moved me to get out of bed around seven-ish in the morning.

I felt like doing something. What, I did not know yet, but I had to leave, to get out of the house, to go for a walk, find solitude, the perfect kind of solitude that allows you to think unfettered of all other things, I had to roam, to wander, to drift for a while...

And, as I left home, I suddenly realized that there was no other place I could go to to find that loneliness, but Sintra.

So I walked down the short distance from my place to the train station, grabbed a can of coke to help keep me awake, and hopped on the first train to Sintra.

The trip in itself was unremarkable; indeed, in spaces it made me feel like I was a sort of fish swimming against the current, for all the huddled masses went past me in the other direction.

I got there around eight-thirty in the morning, I guess, and started to make my way towards the historical centre – from there, I knew the path that would take me onwards and upwards, until I finally reached my intended goal – The Moorish castle.

Once upon the village centre, I pondered for a while whether or not I should grab something to eat, seeing as I had a lengthy trek in front of me. In truth, and as I considered the options before me, I did not actually feel hungry enough to eat right then, so I decided against it, knowing even then that later on I might come to regret it.

Brushing away those thoughts, I started my long way to the castle. After a few minutes walking, I started on the path proper, and up and up and up I went. Walking slowly, taking in the green scenery that all around me lay, I started to feel a lightness of spirit I was aching for. Still on I walked, up hills full of craggy monolithic rocks at either side, here and there a branch reaching out to me and caressing me with its yellowing leaves.

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

After maybe close to an hour's walking, and I was walking very slowly, I started to find the signs that indicated the path towards the castle. My heart rejoiced at this – In all honesty, it had been an age since I had been in Sintra all by myself, and this was doing me a world of good. I knew that something was coming my way, and accepting it, I felt all the stronger for it.

Soon I found myself near a road that split in two; I followed the path that took to the castle, walking ever slower those last few yards towards the gate. In a few minutes, there I was.

I confess, I didn't even think of certain things before starting my way; you know, stupid, small things like : what time does the castle open its gates? Do you have to pay to get in? Stuff like that.

So it came as no surprise, really, that once I got there I found the gates to be still closed, and a sign indicating that the ticket office was located inside the castle.

That meant that I had to wait some fifteen minutes or so before the gates actually opened, and before I learned how much I'd have to pay to get in. I walked back down the path for a few yards, and took a closer look to some archaeological work going on in the area : there were some captioned photos near the digs, and they showed some ancient graves that had been recently uncovered, as well as a centuries old church that yielded valuable information hitherto not very well known.

I took some pictures of the place, went up a few steps to the top of a small turret, and sat down in its weathered crenellations for a few minutes. Soon thereafter, I went down the dozen or so steps, almost falling down in the process. They were covered with moss, and were deadly slippery. I'll wager that anyone who tumbles down those steps will come away with a cracked skull.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

As I made my way back towards the gates, in order to wait out the last few minutes before they were opened, I saw that there were two young kitties lazing in the early morning sun. Swiftly, but quietly I approached them, tried to pet them, but to no avail – the kitties were slippery as an eel, and wanted nothing to do with me.

Undeterred, I picked up a mossy twig, and started to tease the kitties with it. At this, they sprang to attention and became quite playful. For a few minutes I played with them, until they finally got bored of my prodding them, and then proceeded to groom themselves, and engaging in playful cat fights with each other.

While I stood staring at the young cats, a couple of voices from a distance heralded the coming of the people who'd open the gates and give me all the information I needed. Sure enough, within a few minutes I was being told that indeed, there was a five Euros fee that I had to pay in order to get in.

I had no cash on me, only my debit card, and naturally, they had no means there of accepting a payment of that kind. Even so, I would not have paid the fee, even if I had cash on me. I can understand why they charge the fee, but I did not agree with it. Feigning interest in purchasing a ticket, I asked if there was another booth where I could pay with my card. I was informed that if I was to go back down the path for a couple hundred yards and back to where the two roads divided, if I took the road on the left hand path, I'd eventually come across another booth right next to the entrance to the Pena Palace. I nodded, and made my way to that very spot.

All in all, I had not seen a living soul during my trek, until I talked to these guys, and the only other people I saw there was a guy and a girl, that because of the gear they were carrying, looked for all intents and purposes like a news crew. They made their way past me, and we did not spare each other a second glance.

At last I found myself on a conventional road, black cobblestones glistening with dewy drops that cascaded from the trees, and in yet another booth there I saw another cat. This one came running towards me as soon as I caught its attention, and I spent a few minutes there playing with it. I got the feeling the poor cat was somewhat neglected, because it purred so at my petting, and flopped down on the floor, belly up, for me to stroke it... the cat just seemed to be positively melting on account of my caressing.

I took this time to catch my breath, before I set out again. Bidding farewell to the fancy cat, I started on the way to the palace, and I was struck by sudden inspiration. If I wasn't to go, as I had originally intended, to the Moorish castle, then I could go to the High Cross. As I walked towards the Palace's entrance, I checked a map that detailed where I was and how far I was from the High Cross... I judged it to be a fair distance from where I stood, and asked a girl in the ticket office if she knew of a way to get that there. She told me that the only way she knew of was to go through the palace itself, but I'd have to buy a ticket to get in. Not wanting to do that, even though the admission fee to the Palace was more than well worth it, for it is a thing of beauty, both the palace and its lush gardens, I walked away, thinking that my feet would be enough to take me to where I wanted to go.

Down, further down, and still downhill I walked for a number of minutes, until once more I found myself having to decide between two paths. I took the one to the left; this time I decided to adopt a brisker pace, and soon I found myself amidst a thicket of trees, and branches. As I moved ever deeper into the forest, the at one time wide path I was on started to narrow and the branches tugged fiercely at my jacket. Looking forward, I saw that there was no clear path ahead, and turned around. Doing so, I took yet another approach this time; fallen and yellowed leaves cracked underfoot, and the soil, wet still from the previous night, was mushy in some places, which made the walking a more difficult effort. I reached yet another dead-end; that is to say, there was a path, sort of, but I judged it to be less than ideally secure, and I turned back again. I climbed through some rocks, and soon I was near the original path where the roads had divided after walking down from the palace. But I was on a higher footing, and walked alongside an ancient bit of wall that formed a secondary path, but it ultimately led nowhere. Weaving back to the fork in the road, I went up a very steep hill to my right side, and very soon I found myself in a grove where the trees and the foliage seemed to thicken menacingly. From either side, bramble and black briar thorns worked at my shins, alder boughs snaked down forlornly from high above, and just as it seemed to be closing in on me, threatening to overtake me, to make me one of their own forever more, it gave way to a sudden opening.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

Striking the path before me, thereupon I saw myself in a clearing where golden sunlight filtered through the canopies, slanting down through the leaves, bathing me in its radiance – in this tranquil place, I sat down for a few moments, in perfect solitude. All around me there was silence, silence only broken by tweets of birdsong, and the buzzsong of insects that flew lazily by. Mulchy as the ground was, I still managed to find a dry enough place amongst the leaves, and I lay down for a a number of minutes. I took in the green hues that clad my surroundings, and, closing my eyes, I fell downwards into the earth, in a communion of will and spirit.

Down where the leaves remained untrodden, and where the very earth remained unperturbed, I lingered in a sacred and silent repose, wishing that it would be unending, and that my end there would ever remain unspoken.

These nihilistic notions that were taking hold of me somewhat spurred me back to life, and brushing myself of the dirt and leaves that now clung to me, I again started to walk.

Thinking myself to be still quite distant from the High Cross, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that my wanderings had taken me to Saint Euphemia. Distant from the High Cross, yes, but then, once there, I decided to not go any further, and stay there.

Immediately, memories of the last time I had been there came rushing to my mind; seven years had passed since then, and I was such a different person back then, that the mere remembrance of my former self made me question whether or not he had ever been real or not. I don't recall what it felt like being that other me, and I don't think I liked the person I was back then that much. Still, on the other hand, I can see how very much together I actually was – in a sense I was a much more adult person, with more clear-cut definitions of responsibility.

I brushed away those memories, and climbed the gentle slope that took me to Saint Euphemia's cross – there the view turned to the sprawling cities rising in the distance, threatening to engulf the sea of green that encircled them. Behind me, and to both my sides, wilderness ran almost without check, and leaning against the cross, I allowed myself to wander for a bit.

I realized then and there that those memories I had thought of minutes earlier were, in the end, inescapable to me. Not because of who I was and who I was with, but because that one night was like a beacon of light in the otherwise gloomy life I had back then... that night I spent there with people who, for a while, were very close to me, was, in a sense, magical – and that was because of how spontaneous and natural everything had been, as opposed to how forced I felt my previous failed attempts at happiness were. The great thing is that I found myself feeling happy with myself, at the time, hoping for the future, looking at what might come with a different point of view. That was not to last, though, but at least I was happy for a while.

These memories that raced through my head served as a catalyst for something that, I guess, needed to happen. Wearied as I was from not having slept, and after walking for hours, I just gave up on what was holding me back, and I let it all out. I think I was in dire need of a good, long cry – things haven't been particularly good for me, and for a long time I'd been feeling like I needed to vent somehow... so I took that opportunity to cleanse my soul.

After having spent a good while lost in my thoughts, I began to feel a certain chill creeping over me; I had forgotten how prone to sudden and fell chills Sintra really is. Adjusting the collar of my jacket, I got up and took a final glance at the scenery : to the west, dark clouds gathering, sure to bring down rain with them. A storm, for certain, was coming this way, and I decided it was time to go back.

This time round, instead of going back through the same paths that I had initially taken, I took a different route down to the town – shortly after I started to regret it, for it was a great deal less picturesque than I had envisioned, and the uneven roads sought to hurt my feet. Eventually, and after a great deal of walking I finally started to see some signs of civilization. Not feeling quite sure where I was, and which way would take me faster down to the train station, I had to ask for directions. This man tells me to walk straight ahead for a few minutes, and then I'd reach a very famous local restaurant. After that I'd have to take my first right, walk down for about a hundred yards or so, and then I'd be really close to the station itself. Only thing is, after nearly forty-five minutes walking, I was still no closer to the train station... a hundred yards, indeed!

In time I did arrive at the train station, and had to wait an excrutiatingly long twenty minutes before the train came... I was feeling so tired and hungry, all I wanted was to go to bed and sleep until the following day... when the train came, I hopped aboard it, closed my eyes, and opened them only when it reached its final destination.

It was time to go home, to shower, to grab something to eat, and then to rest. I don't know how, but I managed to stay awake for a few hours more, but then my body just gave up on me and crashed... I slept soundly until midnight or so, remained awake for a couple of hours, and drifted off to sleep until midday the following day.

On the horizon, where seas meet clouds, a scenery shimmers beyond reality.

I woke up feeling rested, if somewhat spent. That lightness I had felt in Sintra lingered over me still, and that, in a really strange way, made me have a really good day at work yesterday – the first good day I've had here in a long, long time.

It's amazing how much letting go of things can help you, how much it can heal you. A part of me feels completely rejuvenated, with renewed vigour for what lies ahead. If this is a thing that'll last; I know not. I care only that for the moment, I am at ease.

There is one irony that does not escape me, though : this is something that I wanted to have done with you in September, and the fact that we did not, considering all that had happened, serves well to illustrate the story of us. But the place is still there, and those paths can still be walked anew.

I hope one day you will come to walk them, too.