The creature looms up behind the revellers, unnoticed, rising out of a stone tide - all his turbulent centuries roiling around him - ferocious. He is contained solidly in stone, conjured by a sculptor’s hands to rest here in the Miradouro Santa Catarina, keeping perpetual vigil, the great bearded head as mythic, as thunderous as that of Zeus, the furious eyes forever glaring out ocer the Tejo, the tiled roofs and the people of Lisbon, dancing on the eve of St. Anthony’s feast day.
Saints We Leave To the Future
Saints We Leave To the Future
Saints We Leave To the Future
The creature looms up behind the revellers, unnoticed, rising out of a stone tide - all his turbulent centuries roiling around him - ferocious. He is contained solidly in stone, conjured by a sculptor’s hands to rest here in the Miradouro Santa Catarina, keeping perpetual vigil, the great bearded head as mythic, as thunderous as that of Zeus, the furious eyes forever glaring out ocer the Tejo, the tiled roofs and the people of Lisbon, dancing on the eve of St. Anthony’s feast day.