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Punta Šilo, lighthouse for a safe harbour
At dusk, when the light fades into calm, the small lighthouse of Punta Šilo keeps silent watch over the sea — over stories of sailors, winds, and forgotten voyages.
Stone and salt, light and shadow — they meet here, on this quiet edge of the island.
Graffiti whisper of pirates and storms, yet the Adriatic breathes peace.
This lighthouse is more than a beacon for ships — it’s a symbol of homecoming, a guide for every soul seeking calm waters.
Punta Šilo, svjetionik za sigurnu luku
Na sumraku, kad se dan polako povlači prema tišini, laterna na Punti Šilo bdije nad morem — nad pričama pomoraca, ribara i vjetrova.
Kamen i sol, svjetlo i tama — sve se ovdje susreće.
Grafiti na kuli podsjećaju na gusare prošlih stoljeća, a more, vječno mirnije od svih naših nemira, zapljuskuje stijene kao da ih tješi.
Ova laterna nije samo orijentir za brodove — ona je poziv na povratak, svjetionik duše koji svima pokazuje put prema miru.
More jutra i povrataka"
Mala ribarska plovila klize modrim morem, u potrazi za ulovom i tišinom dana koji tek počinje.
Jedni polaze, drugi se vraćaju, a obala svjedoči njihovim pričama ispisanim u mrežama i umornim rukama.
To su trenutci u kojima more diše zajedno s čovjekom – u odlascima, povratcima i tišini između.
Tales Between Departure and Return
Small fishing boats glide across the blue sea, searching for both catch and the silence of a day yet to unfold.
Some depart, others return, while the shore bears witness to stories written in nets and weary hands.
Moments where the sea breathes with the fisherman – in departures, returns, and the silence in between.
More jutra i povrataka"
Mala ribarska plovila klize modrim morem, u potrazi za ulovom i tišinom dana koji tek počinje.
Jedni polaze, drugi se vraćaju, a obala svjedoči njihovim pričama ispisanim u mrežama i umornim rukama.
To su trenutci u kojima more diše zajedno s čovjekom – u odlascima, povratcima i tišini između.
Tales Between Departure and Return
Small fishing boats glide across the blue sea, searching for both catch and the silence of a day yet to unfold.
Some depart, others return, while the shore bears witness to stories written in nets and weary hands.
Moments where the sea breathes with the fisherman – in departures, returns, and the silence in between.
More jutra i povrataka"
Mala ribarska plovila klize modrim morem, u potrazi za ulovom i tišinom dana koji tek počinje.
Jedni polaze, drugi se vraćaju, a obala svjedoči njihovim pričama ispisanim u mrežama i umornim rukama.
To su trenutci u kojima more diše zajedno s čovjekom – u odlascima, povratcima i tišini između.
Tales Between Departure and Return
Small fishing boats glide across the blue sea, searching for both catch and the silence of a day yet to unfold.
Some depart, others return, while the shore bears witness to stories written in nets and weary hands.
Moments where the sea breathes with the fisherman – in departures, returns, and the silence in between.
Sandals that Loved the Sun
On a blue surface, like a tiny sky, two little sandals remain.
One bears the word LOVE, the other a flower still smiling.
Once they ran across warm sand, heard laughter and the song of waves,
and now they rest — forgotten, yet still alive.
They say children give souls to things they love.
Maybe these sandals still breathe,
still remember the tiny steps that danced by the sea,
still wait for a new smile to walk them again into the sun. 🌸
Sandalice što su voljele sunce
Na plavoj podlozi, kao na nebu, ostale su dvije male sandalice.
Jedna s riječju LOVE, druga s cvijetom koji se još uvijek smiješi.
Nekoć su jurile po toplom pijesku, čule smijeh i šum mora,
a sada šute, zaboravljene – ali ne i bez duše.
Kažu da su djeca ta koja stvarima daju srce.
Možda zato ove sandalice i dalje dišu,
možda još uvijek pamte korake,
i čekaju da ih pronađe nova mala ruka – s istim osmijehom i toplinom.
More jutra i povrataka"
Mala ribarska plovila klize modrim morem, u potrazi za ulovom i tišinom dana koji tek počinje.
Jedni polaze, drugi se vraćaju, a obala svjedoči njihovim pričama ispisanim u mrežama i umornim rukama.
To su trenutci u kojima more diše zajedno s čovjekom – u odlascima, povratcima i tišini između.
Tales Between Departure and Return
Small fishing boats glide across the blue sea, searching for both catch and the silence of a day yet to unfold.
Some depart, others return, while the shore bears witness to stories written in nets and weary hands.
Moments where the sea breathes with the fisherman – in departures, returns, and the silence in between.
A very emotional performance by the actor, poet, singer and interpreter Rade Šerbedžija at the Sea Stories festival held this summer on the island of Krk.
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Johnson's Pier, Pillar Point Harbor, Half Moon Bay, San Mateo County, Northern California, USA
It is always sad for me to see boats and ships in disrepair; seems I can almost hear their stories and their longing to return to sea ...
we met this fisherman in the morning at the beach of el arenal where he had just finished his nightly shift
My father in the engine room of the museum ship USS Hornet, CV-12, March 1999.
Dad served as the Main Propulsion Assistant aboard sister-ship USS Valley Forge in 1957-1958. This was the first time he had been in an Essex-Class engine room in 41 years.
Everything seemed to come back to him. If there had been fuel oil and fresh water available, and some extra hands to help, I am confident that he could have lit the boilers and started the engines. It was a wonderful couple of hours, listening to sea stories I had never heard before.
USS Hornet Museum:
(Camera: Nikon FM2; scanned 35mm color negative)
beneath the calm skies of puerto d'andratx, the silent stories of the sea are woven into the nets and ropes of fishermen. here, where the Mediterranean breathes its ancient breath, each knot and coil is a testament to the enduring dance between man and ocean. the nets, laden with the scent of salt and brine, hang like curtains of history, capturing not just fish, but centuries of seafaring life. in this tangled mesh, every thread tells a story, every float a memory of waves conquered and storms braved.
“The old Coxswain walks to the top of the West Cliff every evening and spends the night staring out to sea. They say he watches for the lights of the ships he couldn’t save.”
While trying to get the light right it seems the shadows only accentuated this fine ship. Leaving St. John's, NL
From the back cover:
A WOMAN WAS HIS UNDOING!
The lithe muscles of Masterson's half-naked body rippled as he stood hip-deep in the water and stared at the girl on the beach. Her eyes invited him boldly. Then the voice of his first mate called: "Come on, Skipper! That French cutter will sight us any minute!"
Masterson's schooner waited in the cove. On the high seas lay his safety -- escape from the piracy and murder charges that made him the most hunted man in the West Indies. But there was the girl, the wind flattening her dress against her breasts and thighs. "I'm staying," he answered -- and moved forward to claim her!
I found this poster while digging through old library stuff. I believe it was purchased when our school was first built in the mid 1960’s.
as the sun journeys across port de pollença's azure skies, it carves out a silent narrator on the wall: the shadow of a man, gesturing towards an unseen marvel. this shadow, a stark silhouette against the warm concrete, tells a story of engagement and wonder, as if the man is pointing out a chapter in the port's own tale. his outstretched arm could be directing our gaze to the sailboats nodding in the breeze, to the distant peaks, or to the simple yet profound beauty of life by the sea. every person and object becomes an actor on the stage of the marina, under the artful direction of light and shadow.
One afternoon, several years ago, I was outbound in the channel listening to the ship and tug traffic in the way pilots do to get a mental image of what's happening in the channel ahead and behind. There was a very strong north wind blowing and a lot of vessels were having to work hard to stay in the narrow channel.
I heard one of the pilots calling his tug, "Jupiter, we're going to need you up on the port bow so we can make this turn up here". He was on a tanker that had almost no draft... very much at the mercy of the weather unless he could keep enough way on to crab up into the wind. He was in a channel that ran east-west so the wind was right on the beam. He had to make a tight turn to port, into the wind, and it was going to be tough. With the Jupiter on the bow though, he could back the tug hard alongside and turn against her. The tug would fix the bow and allow the stern to swing around heading up into the wind.
That was the theory anyway.
A few minutes later I heard, "Jupiter, where are you?"
"Cap, I can't catch you. You need to slow down so I can get up there"
"We're only doing eight knots. I know that tug can go faster than that. I worked on her for four years."
Then, after a few more minutes, "Jupiter, damn. I can't go any slower. The wind's gonna put me on the south bank. Get on up there and get a line up."
"I've got the throttles all the way down. That's all I can do."
Now I'm interested. We're all pulling for that tug to catch up.
A few more minutes go by with no traffic on the radio, then this:
"Well, you ought to be able to catch me now, you son of a bitch."
He had gamely tried to make the turn, but ran out of room before he could line up the new course. The ship was a spectacular sight, high on the mudbank four days before there was enough of a high tide to pull her off.
WV2114/2025
Watercolours on Steinbach paper.
"....
Oh, my ruthless queen
You are still the treasure of my dream
It's the twinkle in your eyes
That took me my surprise
Oh, my sea queen
I just can't accept our love has been..."
RUTHLESS QUEEN - Kayak, 1978.