Every morning, old fisherman Abu Salem rowed his small wooden boat out to sea, returning with the last threads of sunlight. His boat was old but beloved, painted with a little blue fish his grandson had drawn on its side.

On his way home, Abu Salem would rest his oars for a moment to listen to the waves lapping gently against the boat. Seabirds glided silently overhead, as if bidding him farewell too.

When he reached the shore, he tied his boat with an old rope and sat on the warm sand, watching the moon paint a silver line across the water. He felt at peace after a long day's work.

In his small house near the shore, Abu Salem lay in bed, still hearing the distant waves, like a lullaby carrying him gently into a deep and peaceful sleep.