a third spacefor mischievous souls

The word Tejo, or the latin Tagus, is old. Very old. Younger than the pyramids. Older than Portugal. Older than Socrates or Plato or Alexander the Great.

Its roots are cloudy, as the skies under which it flows. The Celtic root means to melt, or to flow. The Indo-European root comes from the word for quiet, or still water. The Ancient Greeks and Romans called it the river of gold, claiming it carried mythical gold dust from the mountains.

It came to symbolize prosperity and abundance, later manifested as ships from foreign lands sailed through its mouth bringing new ideas and riches.

It is where explorers departed, and where adventurers returned home.

Teja is new. Today, along these still waters, it is born. A home for new ideas, for explorers and adventurers and artists and psychonauts and poets and dancers and DJs.

Like the Tejo, its roots are a story.
Like the Tejo, a place where boundaries melt, where ideas exchange, and where those quiet moments are all the sweeter for the entropy by which they are bookended.

Welcome home.

ivan goldstein

read the whole letter · all the letters