here are men, among which I include myself, who during their whole childhood used to ask for a fishing rod and a reel as a birthday present. Even today, as grown-ups, deep in their hearts, they still wish for the same present.
And there is one question that most of them have asked themselves once: What is fishing?

The answer, which always seems not explanatory enough, remains the same: a fascinating world invented by men, only understood by those who are part of it. The rest of the people do not understand our passion and fanaticism.

An angler is a kind of man who is still marveled at the feeling of not knowing what lies beneath the water, whether in the sea or in a river, a lake or a small stream.

And although time goes by and less and less things can still surprise us, this is a feeling that remains untouched among the thousands of anglers that every weekend approach any water mirror in the country to see what is kept under their waters. An angler is a romantic who is in love with nature.

Some assert that one is born an angler, and it is true. But I have also met men who have been turned into anglers by life. And they are also very good.

Fishing has managed to maintain its spirit intact from its origins. In a world where technology and science explain everything and disenchant the mysteries of the world, fishing religiously remains a secret.

Its preliminaries, its language, its ideals and its failures are its fundamental codes. Fishing is, just like life, a great illusion, in which the ideal of the big fish -who is waiting for us somewhere- is the fundamental engine. Whether it comes true or not, it keeps us alive and makes us feel like going on fishing, like going on living...