It is an island only just, but island enough to carry the mystery and metaphor that islands have evoked for thousands of years. I jump across the gap, grab the rock, and pull myself up. A narrow channel of water breathes in and out with the swell, separating me from the mainland. This rock – my island – is known as The Hat. It looks like a beanie, complete with a pom-pom on top. Such a tiny gulf I’ve crossed, but as the sea licks at the grey stone below me, something feels different. A slightly larger swell slaps the side of The Hat and sends a little white firework of salt water shooting into the air. An ocean gull loops past. This place always triggers something, changes my mood, my breathing. It unlocks memory. It speaks to my soul.