In November 2021, I undertook a two-week writers residency (part-funded by a Shifting the Gaze writers’ bursary). I stayed in Lewes, with a former colleague, Cat who had kindly rented out a spare room in her flat for me to stay in.

I had recently moved out of a strange historical manor that I’d come to call home and said goodbye to the residents that I’d learned to love as family. I was heartbroken, adrift, and in desperate need of time and space to process, heal and ground myself.

I spent much of my two weeks exploring the South Downs, watching the world, connecting with strangers, writing prose and poetry, and working on healing my broken heart. The South Downs once again became a safe space – a place that heralded new possibilities and a peace long-sought after.

Below are excerpts from a diary I kept during my time in Sussex, as well as poems that I wrote, inspired by my trip.

Sunil struck a match and with it, he lit the incense stick that rested in the small glass vase in front of him. A warm sweet aroma swiftly began to diffuse into the thick cool air around him. The scented particles intertwined with the floating particles of music. As he settled on the stone steps of the Chattri, he watched the tiny columns of white smoke swirl upwards into the night sky from the glowing amber tip, he absorbed the faint melodic notes of an old Hindi folk song that resonated around him.

Tyrone sat, hood up, his legs outstretched and his back propped up against the weathered trunk of a lone windswept tree. His dark steely eyes were fixed on the ocean in the distance, birds flit overhead and mighty gusts of wind blew across the landscape causing the long spindly grass to sway wildly. His blazer battered from being dragged along the ground was dumped beside him and his black Nikes were covered in a dusty white powder. As he stared out at the horizon in front of him Ty thought back to the day’s events that led him there, to them green hills.

Edna Teakle stared back at her reflection in the dew pond. She could barely recognise herself, her brown hair had become limp, her tired eyes had grown listless and her face was etched in deep dark lines. As time slipped on, Edna grew tired of the person looking back at her. She didn't want to face herself, she couldn't bear to and so she threw a stone in the water and watched as the waves coiled outwards until finally all movement stilled.