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Stories:
"Saito’s Farm – A Life Rooted in the Earth"
Tucked between the soft, sloping hills of Sosa in Japan, Saito’s farm unfolds like a quiet sanctuary vast, yet humble, a place where the land is not just cultivated, but deeply respected. Saito has spent years shaping this farm with his own hands, guided by a philosophy rooted in self-reliance, care, and coexistence with nature.
Here, everything has a purpose. He grows his own food from vibrant vegetables to golden fields of rice and raises animals like chickens with patience and dignity. His methods are organic, free from chemicals and shortcuts. He consumes what he produces, sells what he can spare, and wastes nothing. The entire farm breathes with the rhythm of a sustainable life, where every decision is deliberate, and every harvest carries a story.
When I began documenting this series, I didn’t expect to become part of the work. But soon, I found myself harvesting rice beside Saito, learning the subtle differences between varieties one meant for daily meals, the other for brewing sake, Japan’s beloved rice alcohol. With each cut, I felt myself learning not only about crops but about tradition, patience, and care passed down through generations.
Sosa had just weathered a powerful storm, and many nearby farms bore the scars of the damage. Yet Saito remained calm. His preparedness and quiet resilience kept his farm standing, and his optimism was quietly contagious. He showed me how he adapted, how he salvaged what could be saved, and how he accepted what was lost with grace.
The heat was unrelenting heavy, humid, and constant but something about the work made it bearable. Even beautiful. And in between the labour, I noticed something else: the richness of life that thrived in and around his land. Frogs croaked from the edges of the paddies, hopping between the stalks, slipping into the water with the softest splash. Birds swooped overhead. Insects buzzed in the tall grasses. The farm wasn’t just productive, it was alive, teeming with wildlife that reminded me this wasn’t just a place for growing food, but a living ecosystem in motion.
What stayed with me most was Saito’s outlook. He doesn’t try to dominate the land he works with it. His farm isn’t just a livelihood; it’s a reflection of his belief in balance, simplicity, and coexistence. Being there, even for a short time, shifted my perspective. It reminded me that a slower life, lived in tune with the land, holds a kind of richness we often overlook.
This photo series is more than a visual record, it’s a glimpse into a way of life that values sustainability, tradition, and the wild, beautiful world that can flourish when we choose to live gently alongside it.

"Maiko’s Hill — A Home Handcrafted by Nature"
High in the quiet hills of Sosa, Japan, nestled away from the noise of modern life, stands a home reborn once an abandoned house, now a living canvas of sustainability, care, and quiet resilience. This is where Maiko lives, and it’s more than just a house. It is an extension of her hands, her heart, and her belief that we can live beautifully, with less, and in harmony with the land.
Maiko has transformed the old structure into something purposeful and poetic. Every room, every corner, tells a story handmade, repurposed, carefully thought through. From the furniture she’s built herself, crafted with care and quiet artistry, to the clothes she weaves using fibres from her own sheep, her home is a testament to self-reliance and slow, intentional living. Her style is minimal yet rich in meaning, reflecting not only her artistry but also the thoughtful, detail-oriented person she is.
Outside, her garden thrives with flowers that brighten the hill and fruits and vegetables that feed her through the seasons. Everything she eats comes from the soil she’s tended. There is a gentle rhythm to her days planting, harvesting, crafting, cooking rooted in a respect for time and patience. Her rice field nearby completes the cycle, with stalks swaying gently in the wind, a small but mighty reminder of independence and the quiet abundance of self-grown food.
The water she uses flows from the mountains and is stored from the rain each drop a reflection of her awareness and care for the natural world. It’s not only about sustainability in Maiko’s life; it’s about reverence for the earth, for tradition, for living meaningfully.
But perhaps most inspiring is how she shares what she knows. Maiko teaches, welcomes, and inspires others who pass through her space. Her life is not just for herself, it’s an invitation. A quiet reminder that art doesn’t always hang in galleries. Sometimes, it grows in gardens, rests in hand-carved chairs, and lives in the simple act of living consciously.
This photo series captures more than a place. It’s a portrait of a life lived gently, a home built slowly, and a philosophy woven into the everyday.
"Rooted Together — A Community Harvest in Sosa"
n the heart of Sosa, where the hills cradle farmlands and time moves with the rhythm of the seasons, I joined a workshop hosted by one of my dearest friends, Masa. More than just a gathering, it was a celebration of community, care for the earth, and the enduring tradition of sustainable farming.
The field we stood in was part of a shared organic farm where families and individuals come together to grow their own rice and plants like natto beans, cultivating not only food but a sense of belonging. On this particular day, even after a storm had passed through and left its mark on the land, the energy was unshaken. People returned with joy and determination, ready to work with the soil, to harvest what they had nurtured through the season.
Masa’s workshop was generous and hands-on. With quiet patience and the kind of wisdom you only gain by living close to the earth, he walked us through each step of the rice harvest. From the choice of sickles to the precise motions of cutting, tying, and building bamboo racks, every gesture was steeped in tradition and intention. The process was meticulous, yet deeply grounding each bundle of rice tied by hand, each pole set with care, a testament to collective effort and time-honoured knowledge.
What struck me most wasn’t just the beauty of the field or the golden rice ready to be dried, but the way people gathered with purpose and with heart. There was laughter, sweat, learning, and the comforting sense that this was more than a workshop. It was a reminder that sustainable living doesn’t mean isolation, it means community, cooperation, and a shared future rooted in respect for the land.
Through my lens, I tried to capture not just the hands in motion, but the spirit behind them, the resilience of a farm weathering storms, the quiet pride of those who work the land, and the gentle leadership of a friend who teaches by doing. This series honours the labour, the ritual, and the togetherness that make sustainable farming not just possible, but deeply human.
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