(dreamily answering a question) "I'm not entirely sure. I think my Mother brought me to this place when I was just a child, to this day I can only remember the nourishing smell of salt water, the bell chimes of the swaying buoys beyond the harbor and the melancholic idea of rust and decay upon the chains hanging from the quayside. I have dreamt of them for many years ever since, as peculiar as that sounds. But you know, I happen to believe firmly that we're all subjected to dreams of our childhood from time to time, that they may even be responsible for our desires; those often obscure and unspoken desires that nudge us closer to the direction of the things we'd most love to do with our lives."

"Yes, you could say that that was what lead me to this way of life. At least part of  the reason was that anyway. I was always fascinated with the seclusion of the job also, like a lighthouse keeper is somewhat reluctantly attached to his lonely existence. It's a romantic kind of tragedy if you get my meaning?"

"The shore is my home, there the Boathouse where I eat and I sleep stands...and the ocean is my place of work, where I go out and catch what earns me my living. When I head in to town to sell my wares I treat it like a small pilgrimage, I have my rituals; I purchase a small cake from the baker's and nibble on it delightfully during my long stroll back home. My job is a struggle, it is a difficult and lonely way in which to make a living. But my life is beautiful and I'm the happier for it. I'm at peace if you will."