Wednesday, May 19, 2004
Too Much Kissing
There were a great deal of people fishing along the seawall last night as I went for my walk; far more than I have ever seen out fishing before. It’s a hobby that appeals to me. The idea of sitting by the riverside all day in the sun, slowly waiting for a bite, with a flask of tea and a green umbrella-thing seems like some kind of bliss. Even the idea of just doing what people were doing last night, casting, reeling, casting again, strolling slowly along the wall, casting, reeling, casting again, never catching anything, is appealing. And the light! Oh man, the light at eight o’clock was incredible, the sea vanilla silver pink, a reflected amalgam of the fading, stretching sunlight, the rouged clouds and the dimming blue of the sky.
I only saw one person catch anything, and he was an ugly old weather-beaten man, probably out to get his supper more than to “go fishing”. For the rest of them it’s a search for peace, I suppose. A return to a simpler lifestyle, rendered even more simple by it’s lack of necessity; no one with an expensive rod needs to catch a fish. It’s merely the act of fishing that is important, symbolic even. The act of casting, reeling, casting again. And when the light catches the arc of line as it bends and stretches across the water, a flick of the wrist sending it coursing out ten, twenty, fifty yards, its weighted end lending a sense of purposeful grace where otherwise it would coil and knot and fray… brilliant.
5/19/2004 08:55:00 am