I used to fish a lot with my grandpa. Sometimes we used rods but most often fishing nets. We spat over our left shoulders for luck after laying the net. Then we left the net in the sea with a bobber to mark the place. As I was rowing back to our summer cottage, I saw the bobber behind my grandpa and happily looked forward to the quiet rowing the following morning, or the evening, grandpa’s twinkling blue eyes, the scent of the glinting net coming out of the water and those few words he spoke: row gently forward, keep it there and look, let’s see what we have here?