A Sea with No One

The sky stretched endlessly high, and the sea extended far and wide. At the horizon, the sea and sky met, blending into a bright, hazy white.

I was in my twenties at the time. One day, I realized I had been working too much, so I decided to go to the sea on my day off. Just like when I was a child, I took the train. Kanagawa Prefecture has a coastline, and with a transfer, I could reach the sea in about an hour.

I arrived at a seawall near a yacht harbor. It was not the season for swimming, and I had no interest in tourist spots. Without choosing a specific destination, I simply walked.

I looked up at the sky. Even with my eyes closed, the sunlight was so strong that it felt dazzling. My skin tingled slightly. It was not hot. The sea was calm, and the wind had stopped.

A place with no one, doing nothing—this felt somewhat similar to my distant childhood. It was as if gravity had shifted. Around midday, the surface of the sea acted as a natural reflector, making the world even brighter, filled with white light.

Perhaps, as we become adults, we come to need such a “sea with no one.”