There is absolutely no way I’m doing this daily prompt, and here’s why.
My daily walk happens on the beach in Rio de Janeiro. This means any photo I take immediately becomes a life-altering decision requiring risk assessment, legal review, and possibly witness protection.
Option one:
I accidentally photographed some guy wearing a Speedo so tight it looks like the Franks and Beans’ potluck supper at the local VFW. The entire beach suddenly turns into a live-action version of Wack-A-Mole. Not happening.
Now I have two possible outcomes:
- I get punched.
- I get asked out.
At my age, neither scenario is an option to entertain. And honestly, neither feels worth the cardio of a sprint in sand.
Option two:
I accidentally photograph a woman who appears to be wearing dental floss and positive self-esteem masquerading as a bathing suit.
Now suddenly I’m either:
- sleeping on the sidewalk,
- or getting a one-way ticket back to the United States, where people wear cargo shorts and discuss lawn fertilizer like it’s a religion.
Again, unnecessary risk. At sixty-three, life becomes less about adventure and more about avoiding situations that require paperwork. Young people think walking on the beach is relaxing. No. For older men, it’s tactical navigation disguised as exercise.
You’re avoiding bicycles, volleyballs, unleashed dogs, sand holes, heart palpitations, and conversations with aggressive vendors trying to sell you grilled cheese, sunglasses, and possibly cryptocurrency. One wrong glance and suddenly you’re in a relationship, a fight, or a WhatsApp group.
No good can possibly come from this daily prompt. But I will provide a photo. It just won’t be from my walk. Most likely, it’ll be a picture of coffee and a chair. That’s retirement now. Survival.
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