A Journey Through the Hidden Beauty of the Oki Islands #2

There were no screens. No noise. Just the rhythm of tide and light.

We spent our time being present. And the islands gave us everything we could imagine, and more.

■What did you feel and thought during your stay?

It was the most beautiful journey over the Sea of Japan, into a world where time moves differently, more slowly. At Entô エントウ, we didn’t just stay—we softened into stillness, into a rhythm older than our own. From the moment we arrived, there was a quiet knowing that this place would stay with us.

We felt deeply connected. To the land, to the sea, to the stories remembered into stone and held in the hands of the people. Entô’s Geo Lounge invited us to pause and reflect, surrounded by the quiet weight of history. There’s a profound sense of time here—a feeling that the past, present, and future are not separate, but part of a continuous unfolding.

Ancient fossils beneath our feet whisper of earth’s endless transformation, of lives once lived, of seas that shifted and lands that rose. In that stillness, we were reminded of our place in the greater story—how we too are part of earth’s evolution.

We felt peace. A spaciousness that asked nothing of us but presence. From our NEST SU (suite), the world outside became poetry. Boats gliding quietly into the harbor, birds dancing across a changing sky, and the light—always moving—writing new verses across the sea. With only nature in sight, we felt ourselves become part of the island’s gentle rhythm.

We felt a quiet joy in the mornings, wrapped in Entô’s softest pajamas, watching the snow fall into the sea. The sun arrived not in haste, but in a slow, graceful unfolding. A fisherman and I were the first to wake. He, in tune with the tides, moved silently toward the water. I followed the light with my camera. Each of us seeking something fleeting, something true—held in the silence of the dawn.

We felt reverence—grace, awe, wonder—while visiting a shrine, while participating in a tea ceremony so tender it felt like a prayer. We happened to be there on a celebration day, and watched the community gather in a way that felt timeless. We walked in snow, talked for hours, and visited a boat-building workshop where tradition continues through practiced hands. We spent time with a local potter whose clay creations echo the softness of textiles—an art form so deeply rooted in the island’s spirit.

I felt a philosophy at Entô—pure and clear—an invitation to see earth not as separate from us, but as something we belong to. As something we must care for. The architecture dissolves into its surroundings. A seamless harmony between inside and out. Frank Lloyd Wright’s words which my father shared with me when I was little have never left me, he said, “A house should never be on a hill, but of the hill.” These words have always lived in my heart—and here, I felt them come to life.

Entô is more than a stay. It’s a feeling. A bridge between land and sea, between human and earth. We leave with more than memories—we carry a renewed sense of place, of time, of deep appreciation.

Each place we visit becomes a part of us. And in every photograph I captured, I left a part of myself—woven into light, shadow, and fleeting moments. A quiet exchange between the world and my heart.

■Why did you choose Entô as your place to stay?

Discovering the Oki Islands feels like destiny.

Especially with Entô—this place is the most beautiful combination of everything I hold close: architecture, nature, culinary artistry, elegant simplicity, and a deep, unwavering sense of community. All of it woven together into a quiet, intentional way of life. It grounds you. It reminds you of what truly matters.

Entô felt like a reflection of my own rhythm—unhurried, thoughtful, deeply connected to land and sea. The care in every detail, the philosophy behind every space, the warmth of everyone we met—it all felt like coming home to something I didn’t know I was missing.

And then—there were the horses on the neighboring island of Nishinoshima. Wandering freely in the snow, like a dream I had carried with me my whole life. A moment on the cliffs, watching the snow clouds roll in from the sea, held something so quiet and so sacred—I’ll hold it close for a long time.

I left with more than memories—I left with a softness in my heart, a gentle reminder of how beautiful life can be when lived slowly and with meaning.

Thank you to everyone at Entô—for welcoming us with such warmth. We carry this experience with us, and I know deep in my heart—we’ll meet again soon. I feel it.

With love,

Your friend,

Sarah Jessica Marie Burns