I saw a man create huge bubbles. I walked close to that place to meet up with a woman who was giving for adoption a couple of books: Corpo Casa by Rupi Kaur and Red Clocks by Leni Zumas. I listened to music, and I crossed the street to approach the source. In the Miradouro de São Pedro de Alcântara was a band playing covers. The whole ambient was more than pleasant. I have been there before, and I had in mind to get back. But, as life usually takes us instead of us taking it, I was tangled in the daily activities, and I had not spared the time to go back to that place. The view is outstanding, but what I love the most is the tranquility that inspires contemplation.

The creator of the bubbles was a tall young man with Caucasian phenotype. He was dressed in Asian-style clothes. His sincere smiles revealed his enjoyment of this simple pleasure. Some people were paying attention to his endeavors, but most of the people in the Mirador did not care. There was so much beauty around that it was hard to focus on one thing.

I found myself captivated by these colossal, cosmic bubbles. The setting sun cast breathtaking colors upon them – hints of pink, shades of blue, and a sea of purple. They danced in the air, some gently floating away, while others met their fate by falling from the Miradouro. It was a sight to behold. Despite the beauty of it, people decided to touch them, well aware of the destruction it implied for these fragile chimeras. I was in a perfect state of mind for reflection. Thus, I asked myself why we spoil what is perfect, ethereal, and short-lived? Wouldn’t it be nicer just to admire and not touch? Do we need to always own beauty, even if it means popping it? Does ownership equal appreciation?

The feelings I had started whirling, and I felt puzzled. There I was in a fantastic viewpoint, lively, crowded, and warm, and I felt isolated. Children were laughing, little rascals running after the exquisite bubbles and bursting them. Adults pop them too. Suddenly, it was too much. I could not take any more of this apocalypse. Beauty should be respected! The creator also smiled. He did not care the less his fabrications were crashed. I had to put an end to this. But I knew I would not interfere there, and then, how to explain my profound sadness? The sun set, the band played “Wish You Where Here” by Incubus, and I walked away.

As a result of my pondering and experience last Wednesday, I have written these words. And you, my reader, have been a witness to this fleeting catastrophe. Now, I offer you the space to reflect – have you ever felt this way? How do we navigate a world that often chooses to shatter rather than appreciate beauty in its ephemeral glory?

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Alejandra Gotóo (1991, Mexico City), who studied English Literature and recently graduated with a Masters of Social Anthropology is now writing about her time in Croatia as a columnist in Dubrovnik Times. Her work has been published in Spain, Mexico, Colombia and Peru. She has two published novels, Ruptura and Isadore or Absolute Love. Her topics of interest include nature, adventure, language, books, food, culture, animals, conservation, and women's rights. She also writes in her blog: Cardinal Humours.