Mona Liza

About me

The last lift came down long ago, the terrace is emptying, and the Matterhorn stands there pink for another quarter of an hour before it goes dark. That quarter of an hour is why I stayed.

Portuguese, twenty-four, grew up with the sea instead of mountains — and Zermatt kept me anyway. Maybe because of the quiet after a day on the slopes, maybe because of the people who suddenly have time up here. I like talking, I like listening even more, and I have a weakness for the moment when someone finally lets their shoulders drop.

Warm socks, a glass of red wine, no glance at the clock. That is roughly what a good evening with me looks like.

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