The Fishers’ Alley Where a Cat Resides…

With photo attached, translated…

Passing through a rain, the windshield wiper that swayed like crazy in the rain and the fog, at this time, quietly, lay down.  The port was also, very quiet too, only a handful of line casters here and there, the waves slowly come in to the shores, like drifting off into dreams.  On the ships that were docked, the foreign fishermen would chat from time to time, and the voices would get carried off far away, by the sea breezes.

Climbing onto the community up in the hills, there was a red-bricked house, and all the stories, as well as the residents had all, vanished, into the salty sea breezes.  Then, all of a sudden, a curious shadow made its way in, peeped out from the creaks of the doors, a young kitten was, watching curiously, with that green iris with that doubt in its mind.  Seeing people walking close, it’d, shyly withdrawn into the property, like it’d not been disturbed for a very long while.

photo courtesy of…

I’d retreated, from the gaze of the kitten, returned back to the harbor, the fishers were leisurely, like they were, walking along a dream in the afternoons.  The rains on my car were already dried, nobody knew that my car weathered through such shocking downpour only not too long ago.  The darkened face of the fishermen showed no tides or the rocks, I can’t even begin to imagine the storms they’d weathered through, but, the oceans would, or perhaps, that cat that’s watching close by would too.

So, this, is from one’s observations, and, there’s that heartfelt sentiment toward how hard the fishers must’ve worked, they’d gone out in the storms, not knowing if they are to, survive through the crashing waves, and yet, each and every time, they’d returned, with their catches…


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