A fisherman's sorrow.

A fisherman sits on a old bridge deck by the sea, not far from his house. He stares out to sea with tears in his eyes.

I ask him what has happened as i sit down beside him, and he tells me his story.
How he found the woman he loved, how they got a child, how they moved in in a small house on a little island where their daughter could grow up far away from war and poverty. Far away from unjustice and suffering.
And so they did...

Until that day, when the sky rained fire...

All he had left now was the bridge deck where he usually tied his boat. I stood up and gave his back a gentle pat, as he burst into tears.

That was the last i saw or heard of the man. His smothered weepings, mixing with the sounds of the waves hitting the shore.