Theodósis Fourtoúnis, 2021

When I was around ten, I would start my summer days by picking up stale bread that was thrown out at the mini market by my house. I’d take the bread, my fishing pole, and a bucket to this harbor where I would sit alone and fish. This practice allowed me to feel independent and free; in hindsight, this habit of exercising my independence was one of the best parts of my childhood. When I recently went back to this harbor, I saw my late grandfather’s boat being repaired behind the grey car. I made so many memories on that fishing boat. My grandfather and I would prepare lures, put together small meals that got us through the day and go on fishing trips. He passed away in that boat—the proudest way for him to go.