For a fisherman, the fish is his daily bread. Take that away and you take away not only his food, but his livelihood.

If a fisherman were to be a storyteller, he would tell his children fairy tales about flying fish, about colourful corals, faraway islands like paradises, about glorious sunsets, and even mermaids 🧜‍♀️.

Here in Sai Kung, the fishermen live humbly selling their daily catch and dried fish from their boats that become makeshift stalls. The sea smells of saltiness, like their sweat, (and petrol) drowning any probable fairy tales.

A fisherman found a teddy bobbing in the water and tied it to chair near the wharf from where he watches them on.

If only the teddy could speak.

(Check out my blog on the drying up of Aral Sea here: https://worldwithoutcompass.com/2017/10/29/aral-sea-the-world-took-away-the-sea-and-left-behind-salt-sand/)