Fishing hole

Our sect, fishermen, is a great. We can see, you who wake up in the morning, as some odd hedgehog, full of luggage and rising unditele back by bus stations or in front of the block, waiting for a friend to take our car. Go as far as concrete, asphalt and windows to meet with our friends, water, sun and sometimes with fish.

Some fishermen are special. I distinguish winter, when given time on television. Then the hole fisherman because of it is, he smiles when he sees the entire face minus grades, increasingly rare lately. He knows that soon the lake ice will be strong enough, especially knowing that some day will meet again with friends, fish.