The Pale Garden
The port of Porto moved with the heavy, rhythmic labor of a thousand men hauling salted cod, barrels of port, and crates of dried fish up the steep, slick cobblestones of the Ribeira, a city that seemed to grow out of the river itself rather than sit upon it. Here, the air tasted of brine, rotting kelp, and the sharp, metallic tang of tar used to seal the hulls of the merchant vessels that...
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