Sunday, 25 April 2010
And he rows and he rows his fishing boat. Away from the sea shore, away from the boatmen. He will row, he will row until he gets close to Knappen. His own little island no one wants to visit, NO one wants to visit. They all say it’s too small. Too small they all say. It takes 3 minutes to walk it, to walk all around the island. This is where he brings, brings fishing rod, matches and salt. Once he brought a girlfriend. He will fish, he will fish, he will throw in the rod; watch it make rings on the water, all day long. He will make fire, he will spear his fish on a branch and he will grill it. Then he rows, then he rows his fishing boat. Back to the sea sore, back through the boatmen. He will row, he will row until he gets back home. His hands full of sea, his belly full of fish and his soul filled with peace.
Posted by ISAK at 11:42