July 5, 2008
My bedroom window overlooks the harbor, and countless times I have been woken in the early hours of the morning by shouting or by clanking sounds. This is a boat coming in, lights blazing, chugging triumphantly home. All along the harbor side little, white vans are lined up, one or two if it is one boat, several if more boats are coming. Stacks of plastic crates await the unloading of the night’s catch. The construction of the harbor makes the slightest sound echo, so that a couple of guys shouting instructions to each other sounds like a fight going on.