“Sir, can you move behind the boat again?” one young man asked Elias while holding a camera on a stick. “You were perfect in the background.” Elias looked down at the crate of bleeding herring in his arms. “I’m not background,” he said.
The man blinked, then smiled as if Elias were difficult content. “No, totally. Real working-harbor energy. Love that.” He turned back to his camera and spoke louder. “The locals here are so raw and unfiltered. It’s honestly magical.”