an environment so intertwined, it is hard to tell where the coast ends and the village begins

The coast is never silent It hums, crashes, whispers, and calls Its sounds are shaped by weather, wildlife, and the footsteps of those who return to it Perhaps knowing a place begins by learning how it speaks

Connection begins with contact Salt on skin Sand beneath my boots Cold wind, warm sun, weathered stone The coast leaves traces of itself behind So do we

Salt carried on the wind, warm earth after rain Sea thrift in bloom The unmistakable presence of a highland cow A working harbour The coast lingers long after you've left it Sometimes, memory arrives through the nose before the eyes

A lemon-yellow afternoon A green sheen across the tide Purple mornings that arrive quietly Friendly faces appearing where the path bends The more I looked, the less the coast became a landscape and the more it became a collection of encounters