I just got a new letter from Dan, the cook on that industrial fishing boat. As always, it’s amazing.
Well, I had one day of ‘shore leave’. I drank like the fish we caught and felt like they may have felt when they realized they were stuck in a net and couldn’t get out. Maybe I even felt like one of the few that hadn’t passed on yet as the net was hauled on deck to temper in the sun until their flesh became almost as soft as pudding before they could be sent through the machines that would eviscerate, decapitate, and flay them before their bones were torn out by some cold, giant, whining machine that would pass each body, by the hundreds of thousands, one after one, before being either slammed into a box with other carcasses, or ground up with some powdered egg to be turned into krab, or skallops, or kameboko, a type of fish cake.
We’ve been sitting at the fuel dock all afternoon, and I wish we could start this journey so I can get back to land in a couple/three weeks. Well, I’ve got to produce some cookies, and desserts, and such. I’ll talk to you later. Good luck with your blog.
Daniel.
PS I didn’t know whether to feel sad, revolted, or fall in love with Paco. There’s just something so endearing about a jawless dog. Can you eat it?
If Paco was mine to give, I’d be putting him in a box right now and shipping him off to you and the crew. I’m sure you’d prepare him in some delicious way, maybe with pineapple rings around his bulging eyes, maybe with powdered eggs and fish cakes.
