Sunday, May 16, 2010

Sometimes

Sitting alone on a rocky coast one calm grey monsoon morning, watching poor fishermen cast their nets into the sea, wait patiently for hours, pull up an empty net, move to another place and try again, I re-learn the lesson: Sometimes there is fish, sometimes there is no fish.

Sometimes our hands seem too small to hold all that we have been given. At other times, all we can see is the gap between our fingers.

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