The sun goes low soon in this period of the year, creating "blind spots" in he water. The oblique sun rays hinder visibility, the border between emerged and reflecting tree boughs melt together, like in a dream landscape. There seems to be something very big swirling close to the bank. I am forced to get closer to achieve a softer drop of the fly and avoid tangling in the low branches. From the size of what I believe to be the tip of a large tail, the fish must be over five kilos. The heartbeats grow while I take position for the cast. While pulling some line out of the reel I step on branch that cracks with a scary creak sound in the damped silence. The carp stops his slow dangling. Only the soft fat tip of the tail still signals a living presence in the spectral maze of rigid limbs. The cast is perfect, I am able to impose a gentle stop before hitting a hanging three. The fly drops into the water exactly twenty centimeter in front of the head of the fish. And in fraction of a second the fish is gone, disppeared in darker depth. Never mind the last lost fish, I can truly feel that today I caught my chances