Stuck on a narrow village road bordered by driftwood houses, rebar fences, rusted aluminum roofs, and red rice fields.

At a stand-off with an extended van carrying elders from the nursing home.

The taxi drivers often tell me about the former beauties of Tsu Tsu—the ones now with raven talons where crow’s feet would be. Kindly smiles and sun tanned skin. You can read the close touch of nature on the people here. Something of a rugged vitality— even in the hunched and withered. A knowledge of the seasons in both harvest and life.

I work at a school where all the classroom windows face the ocean. There’s an ever present natural beauty that turns even the grimmest days around. I’ll stop and watch the white capped waves crash over the rocks at the edge of the bay and think “it’s three times as beautiful as I see it right now,” knowing in time it’ll sparkle with the edge of nostalgia.