Catarina Freitas

I grew up two streets from the Mercado dos Lavradores, watching my aunt sell agapanthus and strelitzias at the flower stalls before school. Funchal's old town is still where I feel useful as a guide, all painted doors and the smell of the harbour. On a video call I like to move slowly through Zona Velha in the early morning, before the crowds arrive, so you get the quiet version of the market and the fishermen bringing in the catch. I point my phone at small details, a tiled doorway, a stall lighting its charcoal, and explain what they mean to someone who has lived beside them all her life.