I lost my mother-tongue. Drawing has other words.
Et de plus la pagaille console.
In 1996 I was a young student who travelled with Potuguese TAP airlines to the Caribbean island of Curacao. The budget trip involved a stop in Lisbon for a night. It was February and very cold in my home town. The 10 degrees in Lisbon felt like Arabian Nights. We (I and a friend) stayed in "Hotel Roma". That night, we walked around in the deserted town, feeling the blackness of the city as a massive jazz adventure... We were wild and free, looking at the churches in the lamp light, the closed down night clubs; my friend and I, drunk on the cheer adventure of our trip to Curacao...Twelve years later, I drove my car to Lisbon, to visit a friend who lived in that city. We drove around and I told him about 'Hotel Roma'. At one point, probably on a trip to the city of Pombal, where we went to pick up a fridge at the house of his girl friend's grand mother, we drove over the Avenida Roma. "This is where you stayed," he told me and I was moved.[Thanks for your posts... I can't tell you how much I love them.]
Hotel Roma is just behind the horizon, something like 500 m on the right side. Its exterior hasn't changed a bit since 1996. I don't know about inside.
I don't know either. In fact: despite a fairly photographic memory, I haven't any recollection of any hotel I ever stayed in.(Not tue of course... just a metaphore. Hey JW! Thanks for answering. Saudade for Lisboa...)