I watch the bombings on a muted television. Images of destroyed neighbourhoods, people fleeing, and children who have forgotten how to cry after spending their childhood in conflict. I also see António Guterres, looking older and tired. Not long ago, I got lost in the Bica neighbourhood. I walked down the tracks of a stationary tram and stopped at an old cobbler's shop, perhaps the last of a Lisbon that, despite everything, still wakes up. We talked about Guterres and the days when he used to stop by to have his tired shoes repaired. David Martins, who came to the city at age 12, reflects on the past while continuing his trade in the same spot for over 50 years, witnessing the changing world around him. Seeing Guterres on television, I was reminded of David, the cobbler who remains where he has always been—the place where António needs to return to mend his soles and finally find rest.