The Mist

It was little after midnight when the smell came through the open window. The day was hot, 40º C and the night is little fresher.

The sent of a winter hearth doesn't feel right - I went to the balcony.

And there it is: the mist.
Unfortunately it is not fog, the promise of moist hanging in the air. The clouded air might deceive the sight at first glace, but the intense sent of burnt eucaliptus and the sting in the eyes soon clarifys its nature:

Lisbon's streets are immerged in a cloud of smoke from the violent fires in nearby Mafra and Leiria. :-(

The country is ablazed, litteraly. 15 simultaneous fires are still burning and 2700 firemen, tired from weeks of endless struggle are still working at this time to fight it. The severe drought fuels the fire with dry wood and water fails in many places.

What will still be left no one knows.
Rain - rain with be a blessing!
A blessing that isn't coming....

So the smoke keeps spreading .....................................