I knew the youthfulness of the sixties: Talitha and Paul Getty lying on a starlit terrace in Marrakesh, beautiful and damned, and a whole generation assembled as if for eternity where the curtain of the past seemed to lift before an extraordinary future.
When I see a slippery slope, my instinct is to build a terrace.
But Portugal has a peaceful feel about it.
I sit on the terrace overlooking the vineyard there and I feel cut off from the world. You need that sort of thing.