FrançaisIt’s beautiful as summer, the one we are waiting for, and that we see before us when we tie flies, when we carress our gear, when we unfold maps and point the rivers with our fingers, our head filled with promising dreams of fantastic days fishing. When all we see are those long warm summer days when nothing matters, when even time doesnt have a hold of us, as if time did not exist, Night can fall, and we would welcome its darkness, in the meantime the river would have offerd us its best, have we be fortunate enough to grab it?
