Freewrite: A Woven Day at a Small Harbor

That morning, the scent of salt and sea breeze greeted every step I took. Before me, a vast expanse of blue nets covered almost the entire surface of the ground, like beached waves waiting to be tidied up. Their faded colors in some areas told of long journeys at sea, of nights filled with hope, and of mornings filled with catches.

In the middle of the sea of nets, a man was busy. His hands deftly pulled, folded, and checked each knot, ensuring none were broken before reusing them. His movements were simple, but they carried a tenacity born of habit, experience, and a love for a job that not everyone is willing to undertake.

The atmosphere around me was lively, though not crowded. To the right, motorcycles were parked in front of a building with a red fence. On the other side, several large drums and containers were haphazardly placed, as if waiting their turn to be used. The clear sky with its soft light made all the colors appear more vibrant the blue of the nets, the red of the concrete pillars, the white of the buoys, and the gray of the buildings and vehicles. Everything came together to form a unique portrait of coastal life, simple yet vibrant.

Every time the wind blew, the nets moved slowly. As if they were breathing after being submerged for so long at sea. The tangled nets reminded me that life is like that not always neat, not always smooth. Sometimes we have to take the time to tidy up, to put things back together, to prepare for the next journey.

The man continued to work in silence. There was no crowd around him, but the atmosphere was warmed by genuine activity. In the silence, I sensed hidden stories: about ships returning at dawn, about unpredictable weather, about the hopes of each family that depend on their catch.

It was a simple scene, yet one with a depth that's hard to describe. Here, life moves at a different rhythm more honest, harder, but also purer. A reminder that beauty isn't always in luxurious scenery, but can also emerge from daily routines, from sweat, from nets that record the traces of humanity's struggle with nature.

And in the midst of it all, I savor this small moment: a moment that makes me pause, observe, and experience life from an angle I rarely see. A portrait of silence that tells a story.

Note: I am writing in Indonesian and using the help of Google translate to translate into English.

All gifts from this post will be burned and made into strength to support other hivers posts.

Thank you for your visit.

Warm Greetings From

@gunting