The fishermen arrange themselves in an orderly row, each tending to at least three fishing poles. These are not fishing poles for a pond or a lake or river, but the intimidatingly long fishing poles used for the sea, which beats against the low cliff on which they stand, a few meters above the water. Sunset blazes its final fuchsia breath before the dark sky and darker ocean join to create a great black depth, a curtain — raised or drawn— and this dance whose dancers don’t think about the choreography but live it in improvised perfection, evening after evening, drawing up life from the deep waters, and putting out its lights before casting the line and its deadly glitter back into the topaz waves.
Now Invisible Waves
Now Invisible Waves
Now Invisible Waves
The fishermen arrange themselves in an orderly row, each tending to at least three fishing poles. These are not fishing poles for a pond or a lake or river, but the intimidatingly long fishing poles used for the sea, which beats against the low cliff on which they stand, a few meters above the water. Sunset blazes its final fuchsia breath before the dark sky and darker ocean join to create a great black depth, a curtain — raised or drawn— and this dance whose dancers don’t think about the choreography but live it in improvised perfection, evening after evening, drawing up life from the deep waters, and putting out its lights before casting the line and its deadly glitter back into the topaz waves.