The nazarenes

It is one of the coastal regions of Portugal's most visited by tourists.

The wild sea pervades our gaze. The echoes of the waves hitting the beach clamors for our bodies. A single dive awakens an intense current that warms us on the cold water, which reminds us of our meaningless existence before a tidal wave that engulfs us. It is the force of nature that manifests itself in the currents that insist on pushing us out against our will. Strong stroke lead us back to the bay that only protects us from the cold winds of the Atlantic, where the ocean is omnipresent. On land, we quiver of cold while we hear the stories of sailors who speak of generations of men who launched themselves in the waters, knowledgeable of its generosity and its unpredictable personality that demands in exchange some of their soul that holds in the depths of its being. In women the ocean makes its mark on their faces, furrows traces of anxiety and tears, their hair covered by a flap black flaps, flags of their endless pain and callused hands, which fix the networks in silence. Their look is harsh when face the water. They know that beyond the horizon, everything is uncertain. The sea gives, but it also takes away, they say. It's your fate, our destiny, heed it with humility and a certain resentment, many loves have been lost forever in the immensity of blue. Just look at the black robes that contrasted with the golden sands. But what good serves by crying out for revenge? They just know this salted existence, drowned in the unshakable faith of better days, the daily mute prayers and the pleas for a save return. Fishing is their life and livelihood. Now, there are also tourists who invade each year the sands of the beach that was once only belong to the Nazarenes. They come looking for the generous waves, fish and abundant seafood are brought to earth, the sea gives they utter again like a litany.