Port / Pristanišče

Essaouira. Why my shoes even today smell like fish?

Port became my obsession. I visited it five times in three days. Heads and entrails of fish land on the ground, equably stained with white seagull excrements. Sometimes they hit Eva’s hairstyle. It looks like blue boats are breathing together with a sea surface. In spite the small size of the port there is a very lively traffic. Sharks and swordfish with long slippery bodies weight down towards the sea with all of their gravity. Nets are entagling. Seagulls are screaming above giant Atlantic waves crashing into breakwaters. An old fisherman is invinting me to go fishing in the dawn. Cats are getting fatter with increasing light. How much does the head of the shark cost? I’m admiring paintings on the boats ashore, green and blue curves of the maritime mytology that miracolously traverses into reality.

Essaouira. Zakaj mi čevlji še danes smrdijo po ribah? Pristanišče me je obsedlo, v treh dneh sem ga petkrat obiskal. Ribje glave in drobovja pristanejo na tleh, enakomerno popackanih z belimi galebjimi dreki. Ki včasih zadanejo Evino pričesko. Zdi se, da modri čolni dihajo skupaj z morsko gladino. Kljub majhnemu obsegu pristanišča skozenj teče izjemno živahen promet. Morski psi in mečarice z dolgimi spolzkimi telesi z vso težo pritiskajo nazaj proti morju. Mreže se zapletajo. Galebi vreščijo nad ogromnimi atlantskimi valovi, ki butajo ob valobran. Stari ribič me v jutranjem mraku povabi na ribolov.  Mačke se redijo z naraščanjem svetlobe. Koliko stane glava morskega psa? Občudujem poslikave čolnov na suhem, z zeleno modrimi zavoji pomorske mitologije, ki se čudežno nadaljuje v resničnosti.

Text and photo: Uroš