I'm not finding the right words today, to tell you about I learned to fish from my father. I was 3 or 4 and the cast net was the biggest thing I had seen. I keep putting it off, reading my thesaurus, reciting old poems to myself and blinking back to the screen. It was so dark, and the stars so clear. Do you do that, when the story tugs too tightly? I'm fighting it, but it comes in spurts to spite me.