in october, there is an annual run of these fish, called daurades, between an enormous saltwater lake called the étang de thau and the mediterranean sea. they swim through the canals of sète and fishermen line up to cast huge weights and baited hooks to try to catch their small portion of the abundant bounty. so my two boys see these fish and think, “daurade run.” i see them and think, “silver? copper? bronze? titanium? steel? iron? pewter?” actually, before i think that, i think to myself that the guy on the right looks angry. the guy on top looks sheepish. the guy on the left looks determined. and the guy on the bottom looks lost.

daurade fish

autignac, france