Vila do Conde, Portugal
Half full or half empty, a philosopher may ask? But this is not a philosopher, this a fisherman who deals in reality. The reality of this night is a boat turned asunder neither empty or full but capsized, the shifting of tides, the lashing of waves, the drenching of rains, the blast of winds, and the grunts and grabs of men, all in opposition of each other.
The moon moves oblivious to them, pulling the tides. The men move oblivious to the moon, pulling on ropes, legs and arms to rescue those they can.
The blood red moon sets into the waters, stormy, as do some of the fisherman grabbed by the gravity of the situation pulling from beneath the waters.
The moon will return to pull the tide, as will the survivors to battle the tide once more, for that is what fishermen do, they weather the storms of life not arguing half full or half empty but living or dying by it. As they provide for our plates and life, as we debate platitudes.