I went fishing this morning, hours before the world stirred awake, before the noise of work crept in. There’s something raw in that, something unfiltered. To stand alone by the edge of the water, waiting, watching, feeling the pull—knowing there's something on the line that doesn’t know you or care about you. But it's there.

I caught a few, sea-slick and thrashing in my grip, as if they could tear away from the truth of it all. But that’s the point, isn’t it? To face nature like a man, to take what’s there with your own hands. Fishing isn’t just casting a line. It’s confrontation, it’s reverence. A reminder that we’re not apart from this world, that we’re bound to it, flesh to flesh, hook to gill.

And you don’t throw it back or leave it to waste. You eat what you kill. You take the life, you honor it, you taste it. It’s simple. And in a world that’s lost its spine, it’s one of the few things left that isn’t.

S. Tominaga AKA CSW
Oct 27, 2024
https://x.com/CsTominaga/status/1850505696779071811?t=-3SVfh3qwsK6PEDXfc6-hQ&s=19

https://t.me/S_Tominaga/1722