Words by Eliza Caraher, Photos by Lucy Harbron

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It’s when the clouds are that nervous grey, the grey that reflects on the sea making it silver, like the scales of one of the fish beneath its waves. When the sea looks anything but inviting and the only flash of colour are the gaudy doors of the beach huts, locked up for the winter. Walking along the pier it feels like you’re on the edge of the world, unable to see where the sea ends and the sky begins, the colours merging into one. The boats tugging on their ropes as if like animals on a chain. It’s a dark and subtle beauty and one that only those who dare to risk the rain can claim as their own.