「浜さ行ってくる。」 学校から帰るといつもそう言って家から徒歩30秒の砂浜へ行くことが日課だった。
25年の時を経て、私は久しぶりに故郷の浜に降り散歩してみた。
消波ブロックは波で欠けて小さくなり、川は細り蛇行、砂の具合も変わっている。
しかし、耳を澄ますと聞こえる風やかもめの声、波と地面の振動やざわめき、川と海の匂い、潮のべたつきは昔のままだ。
姿や形が変わっても、それをかたちづくる要素、物質、そして光はそこにあり続けている。足をとめ朧げな記憶を懐かしんだ。
私は、故郷の海の塩でその光景を残そうと試みた。採取した塩を用いて作った感光紙(鶏卵紙/古典印画技法）に、残された断片を留めるのである。

"Hama sa ittekuru."
This meaning is "I'm going to the beach" in the dialect of my childhood.
I always said this when I came home from school and went to the beach, which was a 30 second walk from my house.
Twenty-five years have passed, I went down to my hometown beach and took a walk.
The wave blocks were chipped and reduced in size by the waves, the river was narrow and meandering,
and the condition of the sand had changed. However, the sound of the wind and seagulls, the vibration and rustle of the waves and ground,
the smell of the river and ocean, and the stickiness of the tides that I could hear were just as they had been in the past.
The shape and form may have changed, but the elements, materials, and light that shape them are still there.
I stopped and reminisced about my hazy memories.
I attempted to preserve the scene with salt from the sea of my hometown.
I fixed the remaining fragments on handmade photosensitive paper (Albumen print) made from the salt I had collected from the sea water.