Stones and risks of life

On the beach where we stayed, there were several stones. Very early in the morning, they were submerged, revealing themselves from time to time as the sea danced. As the hours progressed, the tide went down and small pools were formed, between dark stones and green ones, covered by a moss of velvety texture and vivid tone. But from the middle of the day, with the gradual rise of the tide, the stones would hide again, treacherous. The sea itself was rough.

On the very first day I stepped on that beach, I felt a warning sign. This beach is dangerous. More serious, it is dangerous and beautiful, a seductive combination. Only at one point did I see a yellow flag that read, written in red, "Attention". The rest of the stretch I was able to walk did not have any signs.

One day, in the middle of the afternoon, when the rocks were hiding again, I saw several people diving into the sea and I wondered how there was no one to permanently warn of the danger underlying the water. How could there be no one to warn bathers, as a mother warns a child when she sees him climb to a high place or make a risky shenanigan? I thought about where the government was, which had not appointed anyone to take care of this.

However, I soon realized the absurdity of my imaginary claim. Once an adult, most of the time, there is no one to plant a warning flag before the dangerous corners and curves of life. One lives at one's own peril, hoping not to hit a treacherous stone, hidden under an attractive surface or, if hit to the stone, that a lifeguard will come to its aid. As Guimarães Rosa says, "Living is a very dangerous business...".