Some of them are pretty, some of them are hideous, some of them are slippery, some of them don't move, some of them are exotic, some of them are local, some of them are harmless, some of them are deadly, some of them are radioactive.
Sometimes they slip away, sometimes I slip onto the other side of the boat, sometimes they jump on the boat, sometimes I throw them back. I never jump in the water to chase one though. Sometimes I get the wrong fish, sometimes I think I get the right fish, sometimes I think I'm probably fishing in the wrong places, sometimes I think I shouldn't even be fishing at all.
Sometimes I think who the hell came up with the original analogy in the first place.
I look out into the wide expanse of the black waters of the pacific and the sky above, and it shows me a lifeless canvas in shades of gray. The faint light of the vapid moon shining down like a great pillar, serving only to give glory to the image of that watery hell.