watercolour from mongolia.

i was walking in chiado today, when i saw a guy sitting on the floor, drawing and selling some watercolour paintings.
i looked at the paintings and i happened to like one depicting a mongol guy, maybe a warrior (the painter himself looked like mongol). so I asked the artist what was the price of that painting and he replied it was just one euro.
it felt strange.
one euro?
i said that i was buying the watercolour, but i insisted to pay the guy five euros instead of one. i mean, with one euro he can barely cover the price of paper and colours. so he explained to me that he took part in some documentary (i guess: he was speaking a broken portuguese that didn't overlap much with mine) so he had enough money.
enough money? that's the sort of concept that takes me a while to fully grasp.
the guy seemed to find no use of the additional four euros i wanted to give him. "why should i take the money? i don't need it!".
then he told me that he works as a bricklayer and that he was going back to that in half an hour.
i guess i looked puzzled, as focused as i was trying to make the most out of this special encounter.
the painter/bricklayer went on telling me his story, he told me that he had spent one year in the north of portugal because he wanted to watch the leaves of the vines changing colour, in autumn. the moment he saw the exact shades of colour, they stuck with him. now he can paint with those colours anytime he wants to.
anything he wants to.


eventually he gave me another, bigger watercolour, as a gift.
and he told me i was a good guy.

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