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Saturday, 7am. On the beach. The weekend. Old men fishing. I speak with one. Catch anything? Three whites, he tells me. Then he looks at me as he baits his hook, his accent still living in the old country, Italy: The important thing is to love the thing you do and do it with with all your heart, no?
Indeed. You go fishing for your stories, you bait your hooks, you cast, you wait. Maybe you wait a long time. Finally it bites. You play it. It runs out, comes back. It fights and tugs but you know it’s for real when it does that. There’s something on the end, it’s alive. You also are reeling it in at the same time. And once you land it, you know what to do with it. You show it around before cooking it. Yes, the show goes on tomorrow. I’ve watched all you fishers of stories at work. The actors, the set, the shoot, the cut – but most importantly, the story and how it feels tomorrow.
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