I went to Porto without a plan, which is the only way I know how to travel now. The city slopes down to the river in a way that makes every street feel like an accident worth keeping.
There is a small café near São Bento where the espresso costs less than a euro and the owner refuses to let you stand. I sat for an hour and wrote nothing useful, which felt exactly right.
I came back with a notebook full of half-formed ideas and the kind of tiredness you only get from walking too much without thinking about it.