It's raining in Lisbon. Again.
The streets of Alfama turn into instant streams, tram 28 is packed with dripping umbrellas, and you, at home, stare at that mountain of clothes strategically occupying the corner chair. Shirts, t-shirts, trousers, that dress you bought at the Feira da Ladra three weeks ago — everything crumpled, waiting for a miracle that won't happen.
The weather forecast says the rain has come to stay. And do you know what that means? The hum...