In childhood memories, fish fishing up the river and shrimp fishing down the Bay was the most interesting sport of our time. Remember that there were so many fish, shrimps in the rivers, in the bays and in the ponds that every time many fish were taken home, it was the parents who rebukeed them, because there were not many people in our homes who made fresh fish and liked it. Every time a fish is caught, it's always dirty, and in the summer it's nice to say that the laundry is dry, and that if it comes to winter, the clothes on it may be the only winter cotton coat, which is dirty, and nothing to change. What's left is parental blame, not just the fish, but the punishment. Despite this, it is still difficult to shake my desire to fish in the pond, fish will still be caught and punishment and discipline will continue. Remember one winter, on the way to school, there was a pond where the water dried up, and in a warmer day, the ice melted quietly, and the bottom fish exposed their faces, and we found them after school. The rest of the result was a sea of joy in the pond, full of shoes. That time, I and my little friends were all loaded up, because there was no gear for fish, the only pants that were wrapped outside the cotton pants, and they were tweaked up into a full 20-and-a-half pounds of fish. As a result, the fish were all thrown down when they returned home, and there was no dinner. At first, with extended working hours, fresh water fish are still not fluent, they still don't smell dirt, and they still like seafish. The last thing I like is fresh fish, starting at my father-in-law's house, starting at my happy second aunt's fresh fish
