Liz Ferretti grew up in Suffolk, spending much of her childhood sailing the Orwell and Deben estuaries.  She left Suffolk mud to read Modern Languages at Oxford University, then moved to the colour and heat of the Mediterranean city of Genova, in Northern Italy.  Now back in Suffolk, she works as a freelance writer.

She is currently finishing her first novel, Samphire Man, which is set along the Suffolk coast of the future.  She is represented by literary agent Zoe Waldie of, Rogers, Coleridge and White.

The North Sea

The sea exists to give perspective, time, frame,

blip-life perspective. Waxing waning three-point-seven, rising five, rising one hundred and twenty. With six-millimetre hum of wind array, where once forests swayed. Fish-shoal herds we follow with our spears, dissipated to salt-and-water self, to salt-lick whispers so mashed up washed up, you cannot hear those voices.

And it is tamed by banks and walls, one in fifty. The certainty of one in ten thousand hanging on a spit of coralline crag. How high can we build them?

But when I walk in, when I dive into silt- and cold-streaked sea – atom click recognition of atom, my borrowed atoms – I am and I know it.