I never go back to the ones I leave behind. Time passes and you become different and I become different as we get used to each other's absence. Going back and forth is like that. I go for myself, I come back for you, I allow myself to stay a little longer, almost to the point of forgetting why I left in the first place, and then I run away from you when you've become used to me. Oh my Portugal, how much of your salt are my tears, I who leave without knowing when I will return. I who am the daughter of your sea and pretend for my own good to know that it doesn't exist. I who leave but not truly