As the ferry glides over the waves, there's a pause in time, a moment where the here and now stretches out. The atmosphere is wrapped in a shroud of mist, and the brief journey to Miyajima echoes the past.

Even though it is now traversed by tourists, it didn’t feel like an ordinary voyage. The churning of the waters beneath the ferry is a gentle, rhythmic dance. The clouds hang low, as if in deference to the sacredness that once permeated the very air around the island. As the ferry approaches, the floating torii gate of Itsukushima Shrine gets bigger, a vermillion threshold between the divine and the earthly realms.

With each meter the ferry advances, the modern world fades behind, giving way to the mystical aura of Miyajima. We, aboard, are drawn to the island's timeless shores, seeking what pilgrims have sought for centuries—a glimpse of the divine.