Matt and I are parked in front of a fishing village so small it doesn’t even have a name. It think its Fishing Village 5. It has 3 “lanes”, more like fingers reaching into the Black Sea. Everyone’s lot is about 12′ wide and 25′ long. Each land is waterfront and equipped with tiny docks overrun with fishing boats. The “houses” or “shacks” are built with random materials, a lifetime collection of gems from dumpsters, abandoned buildings and out of business restaurants. The rich people have brick and maybe even a little stucco, the others are built with rusted tin, corrugated steal, styrofoam and wood. Everyone is stacked one over the other and it’s just perfect this way. It’s dinner time and all the fishermen and fishermen’s wives are around the picnic tables outside the local diner eating fried fish, drinking beers and moonshine and discussing life over a game of cards. Folk music on the radio, breezy weather and a sunset. Perfect. Click on the photo below for….photos.