That morning, the sun was already quite high when I arrived at the pier. The light reflected off the sea's surface, creating a glitter that was almost blinding. Rows of fishing boats were lined up closely together, as if they were leaning against each other after battling the waves all night.
The atmosphere here was never truly quiet. The sound of boat engines, the shouts of workers, and the sound of clashing wood created a distinctive rhythm. Some were busy unloading their catch, while others tidied up their nets and equipment. The distinct smell of the sea mixed with the aroma of fresh fish was strong in the air.
I noticed a man standing on a narrow wooden platform, helping move goods from the boats to land. His movements were quick but careful. Below him, several others waited, lifting large boxes that appeared to contain seafood. Everyone worked in silence, as if they already understood their respective roles.
In another corner, a large net was unfurled, perhaps recently finished. The net was full of stories, of long nights at sea, of the hopes that hung on each cast. Not every day brings abundant results, but their enthusiasm remains the same.
Seeing all this, I realized that life on the pier isn't just about work, but also about resilience and togetherness. Everyone here has a role, no matter how small. They depend on each other, help each other, and keep moving even when tired.
As I walk away, the sounds of activity can still be heard. This pier will remain alive, day and night, bearing witness to the struggles of those who depend on the sea for their livelihood.
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.
| Photographer | Smartphone used | Location |
|---|---|---|
| @gunting | Realme C53 | Nanggroe Aceh Darussalam |
