Raindrops gather together in puddles, while streetlights illuminate their creation. Not wanting to feel left out, the breeze blows gently under the smiling moon.
Tonight, I empathize with the plight of the fisherman. As my neighborhood sleeps soundly through persistent rainfall, men of all ages sit adrift at sea. Cold and wet, they cast nets out for strangers’ appetites. These men will not get a wink of the sleep they crave, but Yamamoto-san will have fish prepared for dinner by the time her husband arrives home from work. A sacrifice for the good of all.
I have not yet participated in the morning frenzy of buying this precious fish. Prices are fierce, for good reason, and frankly, I don’t have a clue as to how to prepare it. Still, faceless men of my community continue to catch these for our delight.
I roll over in bed, dreaming of the mysteries of the sea.
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