Surfer

Master of Some

It was a fishing line that saved my life. A wisp of monofilament thread, just a hairsbreadth in width, nearly invisible to the naked eye, about as insubstantial as physical objects get. Nevertheless, it was strong enough. When I reached out and felt that tiny bit of clear plastic thread, I grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go. The line and the rod it was attached to pulled me up from a dark and unpleasant place. I held on tightly and the line hauled me toward a light—a bright, shining future full of vibrancy, promise and renewed

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