Nine hours at sea with the fishermen. A small boat, the sun high, the heat pressing against the skin without relief. The smell of fish and salt fills the air, while the waves mark a still, suspended time. The work is manual and repetitive: the same gestures continue for hours pulling, checking, casting again. There is no variation, only endurance.The sea allows no pause. By the end of the day, the earnings are minimal compared to the effort, but it remains the tangible result of a day identical to all the others.
