The escape

«The sun is pouring down.

Around me, a few oiled bodies lie dazed on their towels. Fearless or reckless, it depends. It’s 1 pm in Bondi, the worst time of day. In the still air and dry light, the sun’s rays attack hard. A light sea breeze vaguely gives us air.

This is the moment I chose. I’ve been studying the situation for several weeks. The beach activity, comings and goings, the habits of regular swimmers, the well-orchestrated ballet of surveillance teams of lifeguards, the movements, the quirks. I’ve checked everything at dawn, morning, afternoon, and evening. I compared each day of the weekend. I understood that the ideal time was midday. And midweek. It’s Wednesday.»