A Love Letter to Suffolk

A quiet farewell to the shorelines of childhood

It’s dusk, and I’m standing where my childhood once played out against the rhythm of the sea. The fading Suffolk sun drapes gold over stones worn smooth by the sea. There's no sign of life and the waves are lapping gently against the shore. The stones give way under my feet and offer up a soft crunch. The sound breaks the silence.

I'm standing on the beach; the salt spray from the sea clings to my lips. This is a place that rings out with a deep history. These flat Suffolk beaches, with an openness both inviting and vulnerable, remain dotted with dumpy Martello Towers like marshmallows of concrete. Stubborn reminders of past fears.

Standing here on this beach, it strikes me that I may never return—not in the way that I am now. Every departure changes us, like the tides reshaping the stones on the shore. Will Suffolk still feel the same when I return?

It was here that I grew up; running along these coasts and through these fields. The wind whispering through the tall grasses, sharing secrets I've long forgotten.

📷 Chie Kamiya

My friends and I spent our weekends exploring the forests near our houses which sat next to each other. Across the train tracks we were told not to cross, in the back corner of the school field, we found a long strip of woodland. We climbed magnificent trees, built bases and were terrified of what was lurking in the darkness. After watching The Neverending Story, every shadow became Gmork’s watchful eye, every rustle the wolf’s breath.

We caught crabs on the rickety old jetty down at the ferry and snuck into the decrepit cobweb-filled World War II bunkers on the seafront. Sneaking into places we weren't meant to be was the name of the game. Places we didn't fully understand the history of.

📷 Chie Kamiya

Today, the trees that housed our imagined monsters are slowly being replaced with neat gardens and their astroturf. Monsters of a different, quieter and more boring sort.

Those fields felt endless back then; now, they are disappearing.

Fortunately for me, I was able to experience Suffolk in its full charm when I was young. This landscape, with its endless beauty and wisdom, quietly taught me to appreciate and love nature. It taught me the value of slow, deliberate observation. It wasn't direct instruction however. It was subtle; something taught to me whilst exploring the world around me as a child.

As the time comes closer to depart again, I'm spending a lot of time wondering if the silent appreciation of nature Suffolk taught me might align with Kyoto’s peaceful gardens and the quiet contemplation of temple paths.

Something tells me it will. I don't know if I'll return again—not like this—but I carry Suffolk within, quiet and deep.

📷 Chie Kamiya

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SJF 🍃