The sea is dense, rain is drizzling, seagulls flying below grey clouds.
We are standing near a coastal port.
We are in a fishing yard.
One can feel the raw harshness of life here,
Men unloading fishes from the decks of their boats,
Eagles hovering around as they catch fishes,
Nearby under a station, there are a lot of ladies just selling fishes.
All kinds of fishes.
Some ladies are eagerly waiting,
To just cut and clean the whole fish before handing it directly to the customer.
Their tools are as sharp as the finest blades.
Convincing and negotiation is second nature.
Value drives lives here.
Where was value here, I could not see it,
Only feel it.
Feel the value when the men were unloading the fishes they caught days ago,
Feel the value in the fish itself, which seemed too alive to be marked as dead,
Feel the value in the people who were cleaning the roads covered with red blood,
Feel the value in people who were delivering ice to keep the caught fishes fresh.
Walking farther from the ships,
Towards the selling station,
Then outside onto to the fishing yard,
I could feel moving away from value.
Life became more plain and pleasant.
Only in the eye of the fish I could say this was value,
The whole fishing yard,
The customers, cleaners everything depended on the fish.
If you caught the fish or not.
How do you catch the fish,
You go out and face the open sea,
Catch them and get back home.
Have you caught the fish today ?