The fishing boat paddle breaks through the roiling white froth.

The dolphin fish, resplendent as a multicolored parrot, opens its big mouth, viciously biting at the decoy. In a flash, the fisherman on the boat feels the powerful quiver of the dolphin fish pulling on the hook....

Every night in the deep dark hours, along with the snow white wave caps which quickly appear and vanish one after the other, scenes of life on the sea swell up from Liao Hung-chi's bosom, pouring out onto writing paper and, like fish, leisurely wriggling their way into essays.

Hualien fisherman Liao Hung-chi has recently published his new book, Living Off the Sea. This adorer of the deep blue says, "I think the schools of fish are bait released by the ocean. She has thrown out a long line and hooked me, drawing me further and further into the sea...."

Mid-Autumn has passed, and the northeast seasonal winds have moved south. It is just the right time to catch swordfish. Inside Hualien Harbor, a group of people who make their living from the sea are standing or sitting around on a fishing boat moored to the dock, chatting about the flow of the tides and the fish catch: "Uncle Haiyung," who has become one with the vast ocean, looks confident and fully at ease. Ah-shan, who likes to go out alone and also enjoys diving, has a head of long hair that blow in the breeze like a lion's mane. Ah-hsi had once come up on dry land for work, but never could get used to it, and finally went back out to sea.... Under the sputtering drone of the boat's motor, they tease each other in a straightforward manner, their throats stretched out, every ruddy, dark face scraped by the wind. At that instant, the faces in Liao Hung-chi's Living Off the Sea and Liao Hung-chi's life as a fisherman are unveiled.

Have you lost your way?

"In all of Hualien, he's the first guy I ever heard of who started working on the sea so late in life. I inherited my fishing boat from my father, and now my son can't even recognize it. But Liao had 'ants in his pants'; he took to fishing out of interest." Ah-hsi cannot figure out why today when the traditional fishing industry has dwindled, Liao Hung-chi would go out onto the sea when he was over thirty years old. What befuddles people is not only Liao's mid-life switch; his personality, past experience, and even his home environment make many people think he "just doesn't seem like" a seafarer.

"There isn't any fishing gear piled up in his house. His living room is very clean, and there isn't any sofa, just a piano placed inside. On the wall he's hung his own fish- scale decoration. He's very different from most fishing folk," says Yang Shih-chu, recalling the first time she entered Liao Hung-chi's home. A research assistant for professor Chou Lien-hsiang at the National Taiwan University (NTU) zoology department's research lab, Yang has been all over the fishing harbor interviewing fishermen.

"Oh, Hung-chi! He has such a bookish appearance. He's looks like a simpleton, but actually, he's very gifted. That kind of person is frightening!" says Ah-shan, praising him in a jocular manner. This is because Liao Hung-chi can write, and even more, because before he started working out at sea, Liao was a political strategist, serving as a Democratic Progressive Party administrative aide for the Hualien area.

The first job Liao-who is now forty-had as a young man was purchasing agent in Taiwan Cement Corporation's general affairs department. Although many people saw this as a "fat" position, the complicated strife of personnel matters and the conflicts with environmental issues caused him to look with envy at the sea birds flying freely outside his window. Thus it was that along with the sea birds, he left his home and went to Indonesia to raise shrimp. His happiest times in Indonesia were the one or two hours he spent every day closely observing the myriad changes of the ocean. What made him uneasy was the local government's campaign to restrict Chinese. Full of passion and idealism, after he came back to Taiwan, he threw his energies into social activism, helping Hualien County DPP Legislator Lu Po-chi in his election campaign.

Liao Hung-chi, who has a naturally taciturn disposition, became responsible for the behind-the-scenes role of "idea man." He took charge of all the election propaganda, and after the elections, he wrote papers for political interpolations. He even coordinated relations with other factions. Liao Hung- chi's expressions were precise and sharp. Nevertheless, when the party ceased to be an outside force and entered the mainstream, the former spirit of struggling for a common ideal and the passionate feeling of camaraderie disappeared. He saw clearly that the urgent work of environmental protection could be pointlessly sacrificed for political and economic advantages. Insincere and uncertain human relations, and the setbacks in terms of both people and endeavors that accumulated day and night, made him feel that his originally sensitive heart had been hardened so that he could no longer feel anything. Once again, he started "plotting an escape."

The call of the sea

Frequently, he would go off alone, carrying a bottle of mineral water and a rain coat, walking on and on along the Hualien coast. When he was hungry, he would drink water. When he was tired, he would sleep on the cement tide breakers. In this way, he would walk for several days, and then walk back for several more. He discovered that someone was talking to him, and that person turned out to be himself. During this dialogue with the sea, Liao Hung-chi's emotions found the chance to breathe.

"One time we went together to the seaside at Yenliao for a walk. I saw Liao Hung-chi walk straight into the sea. I was sure he wouldn't go so far as to take his own life. But he suddenly just walked straight into the sea without taking off his pants or shirt," says County Councilman Lu Po-chi. As he recalls that event of years gone by, he feels he never saw anyone so in love with the sea.

Sometimes, Liao would go to the sea to snorkel. He would lie in the water facing up and gradually float down to the ocean bed. Within the gentle caressing of the sea, he would forget the many annoyances on the dry land above. He would even forget to breathe, forget that he was a human being. The ocean softened the hardness of his heart and opened the chambers of his recollection.

Liao Hung-chi, who was born in Hualien, remembers going with his grandmother to the beach when he was a boy, picking up rocks to sell for money. They would walk and walk, and at the first rays of dawn, they would see flying fish leap out from the water's surface. These memories have remained, as if a fairytale boat left on the sea of his mind. He would often go along with the neighborhood kids, swimming across the harbor. That was the dangerous game they called "crossing the Pacific."

Hualien High School, which he attended, was close to the ocean. At the end of the long corridor, framed in the doorway he could see the azure, undulating sea. When it was about time to take the joint entrance examination, he often studied overnight in the school. When dawn arrived, the fishing boats slipped across the front of his vision. The silhouettes of the fishermen cut out by the light and shadow of dawn waned as the boats went along, finally vanishing where the waters met the sky. He began to yearn to have a life on the sea and throw off the yoke of entrance exams, to shed off all the confinement and shackles of the land. Later on, when he first began to make his living from the sea, he stood on the bow of the boat during his first voyage. Bathed in golden light, he realized the wish he had made at 18.

The tests of Mother Sea

Liao Hung-chi began to move in this direction by observing the sea, and he went further to occasionally sail a raft and go fishing with a rod or a net. The more he went into the embrace of the sea, the more relieved he was, feeling as if the ocean was calling him like a mother. So, five years ago, he quit his political job, and committed himself to really living off the sea.

All of Liao's relatives and friends either tried to dissuade him from his decision or assumed a watchful eye. The ones who were opposed the most were his parents, who were worried for his safety. "Whenever the weather changes, his mother will feel ill at ease, until she sees him come back. Then her heart can settle down again," says Liao's father, who has long hoped that his son would give it up. "If he really loves the sea that much, he can be a boat owner or manage a sea-fishing business. There are so many occupations on the land. Why should he choose this walk of life?" During the press conference announcing the publication of Liao's new book, his father showed up, and in the role of reader, he asked the author, "Mr. Liao, when you are out on the sea, have you ever thought about your parents?"

Not only do his parents try to restrain him, even his fisherman friends do not encourage him to go out to sea. "You're always walking the fine line of life and death when you're out at sea. When one person goes out alone, if he happens to get wrapped up in the fishing net, he'll probably fall into the sea, and become the bridegroom of the sea waves." "Nowadays, unless a man gets into the deep-sea fishing industry, he can only scrape by if he wants to support a family by living off the sea." "Such a talented man turning out to be a fisherman-what a pity." Even the old captain Chang Hua-tzung (the source of inspiration for the main character "Uncle Haiyung" in Liao's book), who agreed to let Liao Hung-chi be a fisherman on his boat, says solemnly, "Have you lost your way, taking up the fisherman's life?" He took the attitude of letting him experience the job and then waiting to see him flee back to the land.

"The first test of pursuing a life on the sea is getting seasick. The second is 'time lag,'" says fisherman Ah-shan, enumerating with his fingers the hardships of being a fisherman. He also vividly describes from personal experience how dangerous the gusts of wind and the tides of the sea can be. When wind and waves hold the fishing boat up high, you can count from one to twenty before the boat falls back down into the water. But when the waves have fallen down, your heart is still dangling up in mid-air. And with "time lag," fishermen have to get up about one o'clock in the morning to throw out the fishing lines. During goggle-eye fish season, just past the New Year when the weather is cold, the sea winds hit your face like icicles.

"For an entire six months, I hung over the side of the boat vomiting innumerable times, until I threw up my whole guts. There were countless times when I pulled up the net and used up all my energy, so that I shook with utter exhaustion. Several times I woke up during the night and my hands coiled as if holding fast to a chicken's egg, and however I tried I couldn't open my hands. I was often horrified as I watched ferocious waves hitting the boat like gushing floods, and I can't remember how many times I pondered what Uncle Haiyung said to me-'If you want to be a seafarer, you have to have a seafarer's destiny,'" records Liao Hung-chi, reliving the torture the sea gave to his body.

You can never learn enough

When he finally got a firm footing on the boat, he had to learn the operations, the skills and even the language of work at sea, like how to tie up the cables so that they won't become irremediably knotted by the pull of the tides; and when confronted with a big fish, how to coordinate with the most precise language, so that you won't miss the moment to hit your target. All the erudition of the dry land is of no use here at all. Learning how to feel the tides, how to put the net at the right location and depth, right at the door of the fish's home, is an even greater achievement of knowledge. Uncle Haiyung repeatedly says to Liao, "You can never learn enough about the sea."

At night, the fishermen often get together and have a drink. Uncle Haiyung has many embarrassing stories to tell about Liao Hung-chi. "On the first voyage, when the boat got started, that Hung-chi boy fell into the water." At that time, Liao Hung-chi was pushing the boat off the dock. When he succeeded, he didn't have time to jump onto the boat, and thus fell into the harbor. There was one time that Liao caught a poisonous blow fish and then rubbed his eyes with his hands. After he got off the boat, "his whole face was swollen like a red balloon," laughs Uncle Haiyung.

Apart from poking fun at him, he admits, "I thought he would return back to the land after two or three times. To my surprise he actually did go the way of the sea.... The sun is shining, the rain is pouring, everyone is wrinkling their brows, but only he, even without his fisherman's hat, still smiles. You can tell he really has an interest in pursuing this life." When all of them are making toasts and chatting, Liao Hung-chi has been accepted by the old fishermen as one of their kind.

The vast sea and transitory man

"Whenever I think that, except for fishermen, very few people can watch their own homeland from out on the ocean, I get inexplicably excited," says Liao Hung-chi. On the sea, he saw the lofty Central Mountain Range. In between the boundless sky and the expansive sea, the land where he spent forty years narrowed down to a bright, white line. This different vision has softened his calloused heart. All the frantic disturbances of the mundane world gradually vanish in the compression of the sea and the sky.

On the constantly moving little space of the fishing boat, all there is is the pure fellowship with Uncle Haiyung. All that is left is the pure and direct relationship between humans and Mother Nature, between humans and the great sea, where words and thoughts are unnecessary. Liao Hung-chi remarks that after being baptized by the sea, "throughout hardship and joy, I seem to have been revived. I clearly feel the blue tides are replacing the scarlet blood in my body drop by drop."

Just like a beautiful woman

"One time, Uncle Haiyung suddenly turned around and asked me, 'Young one, why did you go out to sea?' My heart was lost in the waters, and I couldn't pull back right away, so I didn't know how to answer him. Then he asked again, 'Was it for the fish, or for the ocean?' For fish, it's a living. For the ocean, it's a matter of sentiment." This dialogue in Liao Hung-chi's book is also the cloud of doubt in his heart.

Liao Hung-chi lives off the sea mainly for emotions that approach love. The sea is like a beautiful woman. Sometimes it allures the fisherman with its various splendid schools of fish. At other times, it turns around and alienates the fisherman with ruthless wind and waves. But Liao Hung-chi follows her with a dedicated heart, immersed in her capricious emotions and meticulously putting into words her every expression, both furious and felicitous.

When the sea is in a good mood, a sting ray billows like long sleeves in a dance, flowing past like a kite. Flying fish leap above the water in schools, drawing out beautiful exclamation points in the air. The light and shadow of sunrise scatter on the sea as the flashing golden waves lap up against the sides of the fishing boat. Under the moonlight, a myriad of luminescent microscopic creatures embrace the boat like tens of thousands of fireflies fluttering. When the sea is in a bad mood, it stirs up brutish high tides, murky and inscrutable, ready to devour the fisherman at any moment.

"Captain Black Dragon," who shares the same love for the sea and has 17 years of fishing experience, feels that if even humans will throw a tantrum, so much more so the sea. "If she is not happy, let's not disturb her. If you insist on going out to sea and end up being taken back into the sea, that's just because you're too stubborn. Humans have no way to compete with the ocean." With a masculine face, he talks of the sea as if he is recounting the temperament of his lover, showing both tolerance and respect.

Swimming in words

"I'll say in all of Taiwan, he is the most earnest fisherman. Every time he goes out to sea, he takes notes," Uncle Haiyung laughingly remarks. Having watched the multifarious expressions of the sea and personally conducted a struggle with the fish, Liao Hung-chi, who started to live off the sea in his middle years, has found that "there are too many surprises and shocks on the sea," forcing him to look for a medium to convey his frenzied thoughts.

When the fishing boat sails home, bathed in the sunset, he sits on the corner of the deck, putting down whichever situation that has moved him, or continuously inquiring of Uncle Haiyung the wisdom of the seafarer's life. At night, he settles down with a bottle of mineral water, and whether he is in the living room, or in some corner of the ancestral altar room, the frenzied thoughts he had on the sea rush toward the writing paper like waves. Often he will write for an entire night and come up with a short story of 10,000 Chinese characters. Sometimes his thoughts gush too quickly, and he has to scribble out an outline. Then he copies it onto writing paper. He never plans his plot in advance. "To me, writing isn't painful at all." Liao Hung-chi never writes for the purpose of writing, but instead is driven by the sea. He simply cannot not write.

Rite of passage for the sea hunter

Of all the various fishing methods, like laying out a net or a bait line, what fascinates Liao Hung-chi the most is harpooning swordfish. Whenever the northeast winds arrive, swordfish follow the Kuroshio current, coming near the Hualien coast, bobbing up to the surface in the crests of the waves. The seafaring hunters sail their fishing boats, standing on the harpooning platform of the bow, and searching for the back fins of the swordfish.

Not relying on any hi-tech devices, the harpooners lock themselves onto the boat with two boot-like shackles. In the strong northwest winds, every upcoming tide is as high as a single-story building. While the boat is shaking up and down, if the fishermen don't put equal force in their legs, or one foot slips out of its shackle, they'll inevitably break a leg.

When the red shadow of the prey appears underneath the water, the harpooners hold up their tridents. A supervisor stands behind the harpooners, and by making gestures and ringing a bell he tells the pilot to go forward at full speed, to stop, to turn left or right. As the harpooners balance the rocking of the boat and the location of the fish in their minds, they skewer the fish. Once it hits the target, the harpoon line soars out like a stream of flowing water no one can clasp. If one gets entangled by accident, the line will slice the flesh and expose the bone just like a sharp knife. After hitting the target, the fishermen and the swordfish continue the tug-of-war of pulling in and releasing out. If the fisherman pulls the line in too quickly or makes the line too taut, the swordfish with its resilient and courageous nature, will still break away from the deeply embedded harpoon and flee.

"This is a fair duel between human and fish. It's one of the most original methods of fishing, as well as the most beautiful and splendid," says Liao. He feels that during the process of catching and killing, the dying fish has a kind of beauty. Fishermen hunt fish, just as hunters hunt their prey. Catching fish to stay alive should be respected. To call it cruel is meaningless.

Nevertheless, Uncle Haiyung's question-Did you go out to sea for the fish, or for the ocean?-continued to thump in his heart. For him, every fish is an angel sent by the ocean to call upon him! At the moment of killing, he was not as focused as others. After all, the one who should be caught is not the fish but he!

A swordfish with a baby bottle

But the charms of the traditional fishing industry are being threatened. Factories on the land emit poisonous waste, deforming the spines of the fish that swim at the mouth of the river. Liao has witnessed large-scale drift nets thrown by large fishing vessels catching all fish large and small. The heavy iron chains of the drift net destroy the sea bed, and it will take the sea bed, which nourishes the sea, decades to heal its wound. Huge, highly capitalized commercial fishing boats light up a multitude of 15,000-watt lights, attracting tens of thousands of fish into their nets. Those fish that elude capture die anyway, because their eyeballs explode in the powerful light.

Liao's fisherman friends say with a resigned smile, "The Taiwan Strait is the third highway we have paved flat," or "The coast near Hualien only has minnows to catch." In the pilothouse, the captain remarks, "I saw a swordfish with a baby bottle under its fin," describing how there are only infant fish left in the sea. Once Liao Hung-chi felt for every fish through his sensitive pen. Now he is just like a fish himself, caught in a net, full of contradiction and pain.

"When you have passed the test of the ocean, she begins to reward you with innumerable beautiful scenes and surprises. What are these surprises? You can never predict." Toward the sea Liao Hung-chi holds a nearly religious piety. Indeed, in the midst of his contradiction which grew deeper and deeper, the ocean sent out a bunch of dolphin angels to lead him on an accidental voyage.

The unexpected voyage

Dolphins, especially the mischievous spinner dolphins, are the animals of the ocean that most enjoy getting close to human beings. They often improvise a performance around the boats, leaping in high arcs and flipping in mid-air. Their eyes, innocent as children's, lured Liao Hung-chi, making him want to understand them further, so he got in contact with NTU professor of zoology Chou Lien-hsiang, who is devoted to studying cetaceans (whales, dolphins and porpoises). He became one of the fishermen who cooperate with Professor Chou.

"Fishermen are the advanced guard of the sea. No can compare with their ocean experience," notes Chou Lien-hsiang. Therefore, Chou and her team often conduct interviews in every fishing harbor, in the hope that fishermen can voluntarily report the dolphins and whales they sight. However, the response has never been good. Most of the fishermen pay no attention to cetaceans, which are not the target of fishing. Even though they have sighted them, they cannot say clearly what species they belong to. At just the right time, Liao Hung-chi surfaced. "Whenever he hears about dolphins, his eyes light up." Thereupon, Chou Lien-hsiang began to get Liao Hung-chi involved in her research in Hualien.

Last summer, Chou Lien-hsiang accompanied several cetacean scholars to Hualien, going out to sea to observe the quantity of whales and dolphins. They found that the rate of cetacean sightings there was rather high. Therefore, there was once a thought to conduct a "Hualien coastal area cetacean ecological research plan." However, because there was a lack of people, money and boats, the plan was indefinitely forestalled. Unexpectedly, this summer Liao Hung-chi told Chou Lien-hsiang he has raised a research fund which included the advance Liao received for the publication of his next book. He also invited Captain Pan Chin-lung to join the team. As for their research boat, it is the Yuchin #6, which Liao and Pan formerly used to go fishing.

Talking about the four-person working team, Chou Lien-hsiang says, "I almost feel a little triumphant." With his abundant experience on the sea, "Captain Black Dragon" (Pan Chin-lung) can judge where the whales and dolphins will appear. Liao Hung-chi has such acute powers of observation that even Chou Lien-hsiang, who has researched animal behavior, gives him high praise. "He has wonderful eyesight. He can even observe in great detail the minute movements, facial features and even the eye expressions of the dolphins," says graduate student Yao Chiu-ju, who goes out to sea alongside Liao.

Whale whatch

Starting from June of this year, Liao Hung-chi and Captain Black Dragon have been going out to sea nearly every day, but they no longer fish. Instead, they watch, photograph and record the fish. In 30 voyages over the course of two months, they have discovered 3000-4000 cetaceans, belonging to eight different species. These included killer whales, which have never been formally recorded since the era of Japanese rule.

At 1:20 pm on August 15, spout after spout of watery spray began to blow out continuously from the surface of the sea. Killer whales had miraculously appeared in front of their eyes. Six huge killer whales swam close to the side of the boat, approaching the bow like old friends. Some dived down and passed underneath the boat. Others flipped over at the side of the boat, exposing their lily-white bellies. Some thrust their noses down and their flukes straight up in the air, as if performing a show. For two whole hours, with astonished cries, wild shouts and even tears, everyone on the boat was changed forever, because "we owned the experience of embracing the killer whales," says Liao Hung-chi.

To Liao, cetaceans approach human beings in such a friendly and innocent manner, quite different from the hunting relationship of fishermen and fish. "No other interaction between different lives could be that beautiful or that sincere, even if it is among humans, or between humans and pets." Liao Hung-chi can barely describe in words how moved he is. After some thought he says that it is the feeling of "being blessed." One can see a mist cover his eyes.

"After I started pursuing a living from the sea, I saw the catch decrease by the year. That made me think that dolphins must not be eating enough," says Liao Hung-chi. Dolphins are an indicator of ocean resources. If one day even dolphins no longer appear, that is the time when our sea has died. "What's more, it's the day when seafarers are snuffed out too."

Moving from catching and killing to conservation, he finally clearly resolved the contradiction which bit into his mind. Nowadays, Liao Hung-chi goes up north every week to NTU to listen in on marine mammal and animal behavior classes. He has also actively begun to make plans for his next research project, and he is devoted to establishing a society in Hualien concerned with the welfare of cetaceans, hoping that Hualien can develop whale-watching tourism, to let the fishermen and all the creatures in the sea live well at the same time.

Bride-groom of the sea

Liao Hung-chi is very open about his hope to one day be unified with the vast ocean. "His love for the sea is so determined, far more than the average person. It's almost his destiny," says his writer friend Liu Fu-shih. One time, Liao Hung-chi saw a program on television about the Mariana Trench. He relates how once an object falls in the trench, at a certain depth it will shatter into pieces under the immense pressure, falling into the deep sea, becoming one with the earth. . . . That is the final dream of Liao Hung-chi.

From now on, the frequency of his visits to the sea may decrease, and maybe he will no longer be a full-time fisherman, but he has been intoxicated with the embrace of the sea. At one time, Liao Hung-chi thought he was fleeing onto the ocean. Now he realizes he has come home.

p.110

The ocean gives shelter to his solitude. He in turn puts in words the profundity of the deep. In this place where the sea and the sky intersect, Liao Hung-chi has finally found a home.

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A moving story that interweaves seafarers and the wide open sea comes to life through Liao Hung-chi's pen. (from left to right: Liao Hung-chi, Shih San-wan, "Captain Black Dragon")

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Atop the tossing and turning boat, the fish is snatched from the water and cooked up on the spot, transformed into lunch. This banquet on the high seas may sound romantic, but successful execution requires great skill.

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Harpooning swordfish is the fisherman's most enchanting method of catching fish. Fisherman displays the "broken umbrella" he harpooned today.

p.115

"Uncle Haiyung," the protagonist of Living Off the Sea, meticulously paints his beloved boat.

p.116

The youngest fishermen of Hualien Harbor, these twins are straightening their netting and getting ready for the night's voyage.

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The market for fish has been hot, so fish resources in the sea have diminished. "The longer I catch fish, the sadder I become," says Liao Hung-chi.

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Liao Hung-chi carefully records all the surprises which the ocean presents him. The squid is "really so strange that he looks extremely beautiful," he wrote in his journal.

p.119

Swimming through the dark night, he turns the sea waves into a tide of words. Liao Hung-chi is a fisherman by day, a writer by night.

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Dolphins are the angels of the ocean, leading Liao Hung-chi to join the ranks of the saviours of the sea. (photo by Liao Hung-chi)

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Liao Hung-chi, diving into the water, wants to be a fish in his next life. (photo by Yang Shih-chu)

A moving story that interweaves seafarers and the wide open sea comes to life through Liao Hung-chi's pen. （from left to right: Liao Hung-chi, Shih San-wan, "Captain Black Dragon"）

Atop the tossing and turning boat, the fish is snatched from the water and cooked up on the spot, transformed into lunch. This banquet on the high seas may sound romantic, but successful execution requires great skill.

Harpooning swordfish is the fisherman's most enchanting method of catchi ng fish. Fisherman displays the "broken umbrella" he harpooned today.

"Uncle Haiyung," the protagonist of Living Off the Sea, meticulously pai nts his beloved boat.

The youngest fishermen of Hualien Harbor, these twins are straightening their netting and getting ready for the night's voyage.

The market for fish has been hot, so fish resources in the sea have diminished. "The longer I catch fish, the sadder I become," says Liao Hung-chi.

Liao Hung-chi carefully records all the surprises which the ocean presents him. The squid is "really so strange that he looks extremely beautiful," he wrote in his journal.

Swimming through the dark night, he turns the sea waves into a tide of w ords. Liao Hung-chi is a fisherman by day, a writer by night.

Dolphins are the angels of the ocean, leading Liao Hung-chi to join the ranks of the saviours of the sea. （photo by Liao Hung-chi）

Liao Hung-chi, diving into the water, wants to be a fish in his next life. （photo by Yang Shih-chu）