Berburu hiu
Saya menyelamatkan ikan bercahaya yang terjerat. Lautan plastik tidak dapat dicerna oleh laut. Ia memuntahkannya seperti binatang jinak. Kami sering berjalan ke segala arah. Dan Anda tidak melihat ikan-ikan kecil. Kita menebar jutaan meter jaring dan mengubah lanskap.
Saya mendengarkan radio di gubuk tua. Cuaca semakin kuat. Kegelapan badai dan burung camar di kejauhan. Anda bisa melihat guntur seperti sebuah koreografi.
Saatnya melaut.
Saya telah melihat putri duyung yang merobek kulitnya. Kulit saya sangat kecokelatan karena matahari. Aku hampir tidak bisa merasakannya. Aku punya aturan untuk berburu hiu. Mereka datang dengan cahaya, tertarik dengan bau darah. Saya melihat mereka berenang di bawah perahu. Mereka ganas dan cerdas. Tapi saya telah memancing bertahun-tahun sehingga saya bisa melihat mereka datang. Bahkan di bawah air saya merasakan siluet kematian mereka. Dengan tenang, saya terus membuang ikan kecil bercahaya yang tersangkut di jaring. Saya memiliki cukup banyak tombak untuk mulai mencabik-cabik mereka. Melepaskan tali pancing dan membiarkan mereka bermanuver. Melatih kelicikan dan kemarahan mereka. [...] [...] [...]
I rescue luminous fish that become entangled. The sea of plastic is not digested by the sea. It vomits it up like a tame beast. We often walk in all directions. And the small fry are not noticed. We spread millions of meters of nets and change the landscape.
I listen to the radio in an old shack. The weather is getting strong. Darkness of storms and seagulls in the distance. Glimpses of thunder can be glimpsed as a choreography.
It's time to go to sea.
I've seen mermaids tearing skins. My skin is so tanned from the sun. I can hardly feel it. I have a rule for hunting sharks. They come in light, excited by the smell of blood. I watch them swim under the boat. They are fierce and intelligent. But I've fished so many years that I see them coming. Even underwater I sense their silhouette of death. Quietly, I continue to discard luminous minnows caught in the nets. I have enough harpoons to start tearing them apart. Let go of their line and let them maneuver. Work their cunning and their fury. Pick up the line. Strike the water. Watch their eyes, turn into dry crystals of collection.
@wakeupkitty.pal, @aneukpineung78
I don't believe his skin is tanned and are you sure this guy goes fishing? That boat is small to hunt for sharks let's see if he survives it. I mean that guy not the shark.
An enjoyable entry if you used the markdowns I can't tell. @aneukpineung78 did he are you satisfied?
How would you rate yourself? A 10 again?
It was the only boat available and the shark fishing was metaphorical. To give me ten points. First I need a ticket. Scarred sailors. A sextant and a star chart. I would use goat wineskins to store wine and water. Some leather things that can be devoured if we encounter bad weather. The course is uncertain.
I would carve an image of a mermaid on the stern. A few barrels of citron and set sail. The sea is my amphitheater. The immense blue and the moon. I would have many vicissitudes and no fear. I would hunt killer whales, wanting to swallow all the available plankton or whatever fell into their jaws. I would put up a flag, a symbol. A light among so much darkness. I could care less about the news from Barlovento.
I am my own captain. I have built this ship with my own hands. So the termites have been stripped with felts and substances. I sound the waters. I have swum among sharks that were later small remoras. I would love the storm. Because without it, how to enjoy the calm and the bees when one day, without warning, I would discover dry land. And then I would unload a huge amount of potatoes and so much green and so much red and so much magenta to change the colors of life.
Era el único barco disponible y lo de pescar tiburones era metafórico. Para darme diez puntos. Primero necesito una boleta. Marineros con cicatrices. Un sextante y un mapa estelar. Usaría odres de cabra para almacenar vino y agua. Algunas cosas de cuero que pueden ser devoradas si encontramos mal tiempo. El rumbo es incierto.
Esculpiría una imagen de una sirena en la popa. Algunos barriles de cidra y a zarpar. El mar es mi anfiteatro. El azul inmenso y la luna. Tendría muchas vicisitudes y nada de miedo. Cazaría ballenas asesinas, queriendo tragarse todo el plancton disponible o lo que fuere que le cayese entre fauces. Pondría alguna bandera, que fuese un símbolo. Una luz entre tantas tinieblas. Poco me importarían las noticias de Barlovento.
Soy mi propio capitán. He construido este barco con mis propias manos. Así que las termitas han sido despojadas con fieltros y sustancias. Sondeo las aguas. He nadado entre tiburones que después eran pequeñas rémoras. Amaría la tempestad. Porque sin ella cómo disfrutar de la calma y de las abejas cuando cualquier día, así sin avisar, descubriera tierra firme. Y ahí sí descargaría una enorme cantidad de patatas y tanto verde y tanto rojo y tanto magenta para cambiarle los colores a la vida.
para
@wakeupkitty, @aneukpineung78
#miner-wewrite #wewrite #comment