Once when he lived in Faro (Portugal) and walking about he came across a grocer shop that was new in 1950. As window display a packet of washing powder, fossilized the name of the powder was Blenda, of the same type his mother had used and tinned sardines. He entered and was gripped by the sadness of the shop. It was bigger than he had thought, barrels of wine, and in a dark corner, old men sat drinking in silence. So, it was an unofficial wine shop, a hiding place for the aged who had resigned to their fate of elderliness. He had a glass of red wine served by a woman older than the shop. The wine was surprisingly good. He had another drink and joined the men in the corner.