The Fisherman

            I remember clearly the day I was standing upon the pier, watching the sky burn with the colors of sunset. The water glistened as if there were thousands of diamonds floating on the surface, allowing themselves to be carried with the tide. At the horizon, the sea seemed like it had caught on fire, for it was so bright that I had to squint to look at it.

            Behind me, the shore was deserted. The only audible sound was that of the waves, gently lapping against the beams of the pier. Such a breathtaking sight—it was like the world had erupted in flames, yet I was the only one present to witness it.

            I sat down on the end of the pier, my feet dangling off the edge. The water was a long way down; nonetheless, I wished I could dip my toes into the drink. Somewhere above me, a seagull cawed. I leaned back and closed my eyes, but just as I was about to drift off into sleep, I heard a sudden voice.

            “Beautiful sunset, I’ll say.”

            I turned around. It was an old fisherman, tan and wrinkled like a raisin. He had a long white beard and blue eyes that still seemed to sparkle with youth. Behind him he carried his long fishing pole, and in his other hand was a ratted net that looked as if it had gone too many years without being replaced.

            “Have you ever thought that somewhere on the opposite shore, there’s someone doing the same thing we are now? Staring off towards the sea?” he went on, smiling at me with his collection of golden teeth.

            I blinked. Never had the thought hit me before. The world suddenly seemed much, much bigger, and I—who had felt so alone just minutes ago—realized that I was one of many.

            For now I knew there was someone on the other side of the sea, countless miles beyond the horizon. Someone with hopes and fears—with worries and dreams for the future. A real human being, gazing out at the water exactly as I had been. Although this person obviously couldn’t have been watching the sunset wherever they were, they still could’ve been marveling at the beauty of the world.

            The beauty of life, which I now believe is often revealed through nature.

            “No,” I replied at last. “I have never thought of that.”