Gone fishing… Warm spring of 1993, sun-kissed freckly curious girl can’t take her hands off of a fishing rod, way too heavy to be held on her own. Under the masterful supervision from her uncle, the blondie is running the show of whoever catches more bleak. Ever since that sunny May evening the little girl was dazed. Summer days would start alike with an early wake up for the morning round, no matter sun or rain eyes focused on the float for the slightest wince. Hands, hair, clothes, eventually all around covered in the fishy stench. Years passed, passion vanished. Fast forward 20 years, the same girl looking for refreshing solitude – some characters of the story gone yet the setting is undoubtedly familiar. The old good bamboo rod, larvae for lure, river and me…












