There are days when the noise of the world invades the mind, black smoke fills the throat and prevents breathing. The anguish of the pandemic makes us forget the other horrors of the world, children living in war, wounded, sold, raped, killed; prostituted girls, children who have witnessed the massacre of their loved ones, who die of cold and starvation in refugee camps or drowned in the middle of the sea, a poison that obscures the sight.
Today, on this strip of sand where I walk looking at the sea, I can no longer see beauty. The meaning is as lost as this blurred and colorless horizon.
What should we privileged do, without any merit in being born in the evolved part of the world?
There are many answers, but the heroes among us are few, and they are already there, in the bombed cities, in the field hospitals, on the ships that sift the sea because saving even one of them is still saving a life.
Then, however, the non-heroes, those who struggle like me, to denounce, to publish their outrage, to send aid, to ask for justice.
And yet, the mass of the non-deployed, the indifferent, the self-centered, those who> so much nothing changes <> so much is a drop in the ocean <
Finally, the multitude of those who have faith, of those who believe in God and in prayer.
But now our fear is mixed with that of the weakest, the forgotten, the thought of death prevents outbursts of solidarity, empathy, compassion.
One foot in front of the other, I walk leaving footprints on the wet sand, today it rained in this corner of Sardinia for the first time since I arrived.
There is no one here, if not my inner voice that screams unanswered questions.
I sit in the damp chair of a closed bar, frustrations of helplessness mingle with guilt, for having much, for having too much, because suddenly, the deafening din of human violence against other humans, against animals, against the Earth itself deafens me, it is unsustainable, it squeezes useless tears which drip on the sand.
I roll my eyes, the light is changing, a pale sun filters through a cloud.
Even the water shines in the light wave, everything transforms quickly.
Clouds move, shatter, recompose. I can't take my eyes off this moving fresco; again and again the Earth consoles with its infinite beauty.
People have arrived on the beach, the sunset promises and explodes in a continuous movement of clouds.
Later I send this picture to a friend, he replies > It looks like an alien message <
Yes, I answer, it is a message from Sky, it says > Do your best. Do not lose hope. <
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All Images and Original Text Copyright Solo Moles - Travel One 2020