Victoria Matosa | EXTENDED |

One rainy Tuesday, a new client arrived. He was tall, sharp-jawed, and carried a leather satchel with the wear of genuine use, not fashion. His name was Rafael.

Rafael reached out and took her hand. The box sat between them on the table, its lid still open, releasing the last of its sadness into the Lisbon light. Victoria Matosa

“I was told you work with… delicate things,” he said, his English tinged with a Brazilian warmth. One rainy Tuesday, a new client arrived

She shrugged, a little embarrassed. “I feel things too much. That’s usually a problem. But sometimes… it’s the only way in.” One rainy Tuesday