I once knew a man, who caught turtles and mussels in the sea with a stranger-friend during his summer holidays with his family.

Where he came from, from the rural countryside, there weren’t any boundaries as to what species of animals were legally allowerd to be caught, and which were not. Where he came from, most of the species in the animal kingdom existed in overflow. There weren’t any environmental crises or restrictions. No legal boundaries, no oversight. At least, if there were any boundaries, they weren’t known to all.

Catching animals and releasing them back alive, even for grown ups from the rural countryside, was an expression of admiration for nature’s beauty. Unwilling and without bad intentions, these men were so joyous and freeflowing, their souls and bodies enjoying the sea, as if they were kids again. Their bodies diving elegantly into the water, while wearing steamy goggles, and when diving back up again, presenting nature’s finest creatures to each other, as if nothing else mattered more, but just this fragile moment.

These types of men were so light and airy, the heaviness of the world weighted on them normally, but in this very moment, it seemed to disappear. The engagement with the bluish-green sea was their type of emotional release. Them letting go all strength and expectations of their age and gender. It was just the two of them, playing catch and release, not knowing the legal boundaries of the country they were visiting. Just them, the turtles and the mussels, and the deep-blue sea.

I once knew a man, who was so funny and smart, it hurt. He was so witty and swift, so gentle and yet so crude. His brut-ish and countryside-ish manners seemed to blur as he grew older. Yet, he never had any crudeness or crassness to his behaviour. He was so aware, and yet so dreamy.

I once knew a man, who caught turtles and mussels in the sea with a stranger-friend, someone he barely knew, during the summer holidays with his family, not knowing, that this holiday, would be his last.