A pilgrimage with memory bundle, made with findings - once white baby gowns, silk, lace and petaled crown. A satin baby bonnet pocket filled with remains and thoughts of times gone past, and the need for letting go. A journey to the Cornish coast and walks along the coastline here and there, in search of the right place. Not the hidden beach, reached only by climbing down the cliff rocks by virtue of a knotted rope. Nor the faraway cove called The Place, which was never quite reached. But instead, a pathway back towards the setting sun and the lighthouse at St Anthony's Head. Talk of St Anthony being patron saint of all things lost, allows time to discover a small wooden gate into a beautiful open beach. The evening autumnal light, the cradle of offerings held and washed back and forth in the tidal waters.