The poem and photographs are about landscape and loss; the slow erosion of land, custom and memory. They are about distance and proximity, ages past and yet still present in the reaches of our memories.

The east coast of England between the Humber and Bridlington Bay is eroding faster than any other section of the British coastline. Cliffs, houses and roads are slipping into the North Sea as the world warms and the oceans rise.

Once upon a time the seaside towns and beaches were crowded with holiday makers and day trippers and as a child whose grandparents lived in Bridlington, some of my happiest memories are of time spent there.

Listening.

Hearing only the fall of the waves onto sands and the ensuing sound of beach pebbles being drawn along by the retreating water backwards into the timeless sea.

Traversing the shoreline to a distance far enough away to escape the all pervasive soundtrack behind the digital age.

Questing a space where, just for a time, it might be possible to know the calming, restorative silence that I remember of a time past.

To be alone again and draw breath.

Or …