Los fracasados de la aventura

What a beautiful adventure. We are there, in our living room, sitting in the warmth of our comfortable armchair, with an infusion in hand while in the book or on the screen some guys do things that evade us from our insignificant life. They place us before all dangers and face for us the seas, the mountains, the storms, the savages and the icicles. They are handsome and brave, covered in virile sweat and badly shaven, but just the right amount. They conquer the world for us and on top of that they fill our gloomy afternoons with their formidable stories. But how exhausting adventurers are. Always at the foot of the canyon, ready to appear at any time, to ask you for everything -money, admiration, compassion-, to make you see how miserable you are with your vulgar infusion in your ragged armchair while the wind of the epic waves your wavy hair . They are the strongest, the most daring, their rich and multicolored existence turns our empty and prissy daily lives a thousand times. That is why, sometimes, we feel a mad desire to take revenge on them. Because despite their beautiful words, these magnificent heroes also hit each other with wood, they fumble, they screw up to the hock. And at that moment, suddenly, they become very discreet with their mistakes, they are silent in the face of their failures, they shy away from their stumbles. When they narrate their failures, it is only to extol their victories. So, for once, let us take our revenge: we mediocre, prudent, faint-hearted ones, let us stick our noses at their bungling, take a closer look at their calamities, since the stories of their misfortunes are, without a doubt, more absurd and comical than those of his conquests. What an unusual pleasure to see these supermen skate, to see these conquerors stumble on the carpet, to see these braggarts suffer setbacks; miserable joy, little revenge. And because? Well, because better miserable and alive than hero and dead.