When I first went to Kamakura I was 16 and full of wonder and anger and curiosity; a coiled hope poised at the edge of experience.
I stood then for the first time in the crowded clearing at the foot of the great bronze Buddha, calm washing over me with the incense smoke and a faint scent of the sea.
That was half a lifetime ago. I go back when I can, and in the years since, the place has become a kind of gauge for me. I measure myself against it the way children measure themselves against height markings on a wall. Have I grown? Have I changed?