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So the story goes:
As a child I went fishing with my Grandad in the sea, set off from Dartmouth Harbour in a boat called Ripley, we caught whiting, we caught Gernard, we caught mackerel, we caught bass., and the sea it was a larder for my Grandad and me.
And I follow the line, the infinity line, and I'm wishing, I was fishing and that everything was fine.
As a Father I went fishing with my sons in the sea, set out from Abersoch, in a boat called Jenny III, we caught nothing but a mackerel so small we threw it back, and the radar did not help us coz the fish it could not track.,
When my sons sons go fishing will there be something for them? Or will the barron empty seas, have nothing left to give, for my Grandfathers Father my Father and me, we have squandered these resources, and over fished the sea.
We have fished our last fish, fish our last fucking fish.., and so on until the sea can give no more.
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