To fishermen, boats are people. What a person lives through with a boat cannot really be retold to anyone. A boat wrestles a restless sea beside its fisherman, prays to Saint Nicholas, drifts peacefully into the sunset, waits patiently at its mooring, and rolls with whatever comes. It becomes his steady ground, his faithful companion, the place where whole days at sea are lived. In a fisherman’s eyes you can see the love for the boat and the sea that feed him.
When the fisherman is gone, the boat is neglected, left to decay, and its own ending begins. Time bites into it and the moment comes to say goodbye. Around here, impermanence is often written very clearly across boats and dinghies. Every now and then, one lies there beyond repair, never to return to the sea. Sun, salt, wind, and time make textures and shades out of age. The boat waits for that day, for its fire.
Traditionally, wooden boats are burned. It is part of the ritual of letting go and saying farewell.
After years of falling apart on Porat beach, the fire finally came for this boat, 94 KŽ.
