The setting sun cast its glow on the reservoir, turning the surface into a bubbling pot of sauerkraut and fish soup. The air was thick with the complex aromas of fish bait, sunscreen, and a faint, almost palpable, air of masterful fishing. My cousin, holding a thick, threaded steel fishing rod that could be used as scaffolding, stared intently at the water, his brow furrowed. His gaze wasn't that of someone fishing; it was more like he was contemplating how to dissect the entire reservoir. "I say, the fish are biting like crazy today," my other cousin remarked, fiddling with his flashy, sequined fishing gear without even looking up. "You bet, from morning till now..."
