गति का शांत सुख

मैंने जीत हासिल करने के लिए नहीं, मैंने सुनने के लिए किया। ऑकलैंड के किनार पर सुबह, मैं केवल एक प्रारंभिक हुआ—जल्लो पानी में पटरीफेंक़्,बिना कारण।छड़ेभारी,अभिमण्ड से नहीं,शांति से। हरफेंक़्‍‍‍‍‍‍‍

बजट मेरा敵थम

मैंने हाथों से मछलीपर,अपनी-वॉलटस-से-नहीं।एकदिन-सीम:एकघण्ट-प्रति-घण्ट।मुझसईस-दुख-चढ़;बल्कि

दोज़य

उन्होषThe Net Is Not a Machine
They called it gambling. I call it poetry.
When the tide turned at dusk, and the gulls cried over pebbles like drumbeats—I didn’t chase big wins. I watched for patterns: a single line stretching across twilight hours, catching not fish—but time.

From Novice to Archivist

Three rules changed me:
First—wait longer than you cast.
Second—play small stakes until silence feels like home.
Third—leave when you feel full.
I won eight hundred dollars once—not by chance—but by remembering why I began.

The Ritual Is in the Waiting

This isn’t fishing as entertainment.
It’s fishing as belonging.
Every morning on these shores has become a sacred pause—a ritual between breaths,
a quiet dance with salt and wind,
an invitation to wonder without drama.