Happiness is a very elusive feeling. One minute you are on top of the world, another minute you fill at the bottom of the pit. Where is the balance? How can one achieve peace when there is so much to do so much to see. Is it worth being in a "good job" that pleases everyone around or should one take a risk let it all burn and really search for something that makes them truly happy. What's better: a badly paid job you adore or a well paid one you cannot stand. I wish getting older meant getting wiser. I feel getting older just puts more questions in front of you. Who are you? What have you achieved, where are you going? Anyways sorry for all the blah.
Let's rewind to the last day in Lisbon. I wake up at 12pm, having gone to bed at 8am after a very filling breakfast, all my plans of going to a couple more museum are now out of question. I feel like a zombie, albeit a happy one.