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Back in 2007, my then-new husband took me with him on a weeklong fishing trip to the island of South Uist in the Outer Hebrides. Fishing for David isn’t anything as mundane as a ‘sport’; it’s a meditative experience, verging on the sacred. So one morning we rose well before dawn, and stood in our waders in the middle of a sea-loch under an unreasonably starry sky. Later that day, I wrote this short piece of prose, which was published in the wonderful literary magazine Waterlog.