The Old Fisherman

:shop354088:  Something was different that morning. His whole life the Old Fisherman had lived on the same little island - gone fishing early in the morning and came back late in the evening - but now something was different. As he once again rowed his boat out on to the sea, and as he watched the island get further and further in the horizon, he thought of a funny thing: "Every morning that Island swims away from me, and every evening it returns. And all I do is just stay still on the middle of the ocean..."
And as he thought of all this (and was sure these kinds of odd notions were deffenite sings off him getting old and his brains starting to yawn) the island got smaller and smaller, lost it's shape in the distant morning mist and finally dove under the horizon.


And then - then the Flyfishes came.
:shop330622:  Hundreds of them. They flew around the boat quietly, swimming through the air, sparkling like nothing the Old Fisherman had ever seen.
"How absolutely unnatural and unapropriet...", the fisherman's boat creaked in resentment, until the waves rocked it back to sleep. All boats are like this. They have a fear of hights and an odd way of thinking that only creatures with wings are supposed to fly.


:shop368658:  But the Old Fisherman thought differently. He looked at the flying fishes around him and realized that there is another ocean, an ocean in the sky. And altough the boat didn't feel too happy about it, the Old Fisherman rowed them up from the water and in to the air, higher and higher, untill he couldn't see where the sea below ended and where the heavens above him started.

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