The sea defenses

When the sea is angry, we do not have to go in, Peppe the fisherman says, and when the weather is bad he repairs nets and traps.

Nobody understands the sea. He wants to be ignored. The islanders know it. Tired females, the old people on the bench, the fishermen as well, they look at the blue horizon, but not at the sea.

Those ones float, they contaminate the clear, salty water that used to be without hydrocarbons. They come with the heat, swarming. They want to spend their happy summer regardless of the Nature that created them.

They see the sea, they want to conquer him, to exploit him, they fill him with bodies, they steal his treasures. But they do not know him.

The sea does not ask anyone, only fishes, sometimes neither those, and he throws them on the ground. He also throws back those who want to float in the underflow. He throws them on the rock.

Rock is a female and she protect the sea since millennia. She is hard and impenetrable, she offers Gothic towers, she is steep and uneven, but she is also flat and slippery.

Another female protects the sea. Hot and deep, she hinders them sinking for meters. She makes them sweat and she shakes their feet. She steals the rings falling on her. And then another ally again, her sea-goddess hair are tentacles, knotting at their legs, lying on the shore and becoming mountains. From far away they seem to be rocks.

The sea loves these females. He laps them, he invades them, he whips them, but he needs them. They are his limit and containment. Without them he would not exist.