All this time, my father was becoming a fish.
I saw him dart this way and that, a silvery brilliant, shining life, and disappear into the darkness of the deep water where the big fish go, and I haven’t seen him since — though others have. Already I’ve heard stories, of lives saved and wishes granted, of children carried for miles on his back, of anglers mischievously dumped from their vessels and emptied into various oceans and streams from Beaufort to Hyannis by the biggest fish they’ve ever seen, and they tell their stories to anybody who will listen.
But no one believes them. No one believes a word.
– Daniel Wallace, Big Fish
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