I thought I knew the Cathedral in Porto. In my First Year of architecture we went over to draw it. From outside, from inside. The worst of it was the Cloister, full of geometry, full of different perspectives. Still, it was nothing to compare with the circular cloister of the Serra do Pilar monastery, with its impossible perspectives, which we also tackled as part of our school work. This gave us a taste for drawing. A taste and a need for it. Drawing is always a support for ideas, a way to test them and it very often leads us to discard them. One of our teachers was Grade, Zé Grade, who used to and still lives in the vicinity, in the oldest house in Porto, or at least the one with the oldest façade, in Beco dos Redemoinhos. It was also there that we were given the bad news about one of our colleagues. Something that always remained in our memory, or at least in mine.
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