a beach thought

a beach thought, or an extract of one

I lay in the sand on top of a yellow shirt with shell drawings on it that is not mine, but from the man that lays on my side here, now, and every night till eternity.

I lay with my back to the sky and my wet hair wetting the whole shirt (I just came out of the sea). And while my skin burns with the sun I watch the people and I observe the beach and I wonder.

I wonder about our ignorance and immense stupidity because we stand here, in thousands of pieces of shattered glass with our colourful chairs and biquinis pretending we can just play with the sea.

Pretending it is at our mercy and that we stand in the shore for option and not for the lack of it.

We stand (as always) in the shore of things, in the shore of truth.

Never being able to dive into the water completely, because we do not know what lies within it, and we are dying of fear to find out.

-Antônia D. G. Lau