The old fisherman would laugh that his wrinkles were a map of ocean currents, that they had been carved there by generous winds.
The old fisherman would have taken the right to become a pebble upon his beach as heaven enough.
Were you to take a sonogram of the old fisherman's heart, you would see the dolphins and seals that ever-swim within.
Just as the days of his fine boat travelling the waves has passed, the old fisherman had earned the right to rest upon the beach and dream.
The old fisherman rested upon a sun-heated rock, his face a playful mirror of the waves, bonny with ocean reflected light.
Old fishermen, new sun, fresh waves and teaming fish - it was a great day in the harbour.
The old fisherman had a special bond to the ocean, for she was the stalwart of his existence.
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