Evangelia Papoutsaki MA Leeds, PhD Cardiff, MRSNZ

When people heard I was flying to the Philippines, most assumed I meant Cebu. It is the country's tourist capital, the archipelago's front door, the place with the direct flights and the dive resorts and the iconic lechon (crispy whole roasted pig ) stalls that make it onto every itinerary. I did not go to Cebu. After three cancelled connections out of Manila, I landed instead in Tacloban, the capital of Leyte, to co-host an international conference on small island cultures.

Amami’s natural world speaks constantly: through the tracks of the Amami rabbit, the seasonal cycles of the Ryukyu ayu fish, the changing colors of the sea after a typhoon, the density of night darkness. People who have long lived here have learned to read these shifts not as abstract “information,” but as embodied, sensory knowledge.

Living on a small island teaches you about presence. About the weight of a glance, the meaning of a gesture, the value of a space that knows your name. It teaches you that being seen—truly seen—is not a luxury but a fundamental human need. And that the places where this happens, where we are witnessed and acknowledged, are precious beyond measure.

Sometimes the best academic impact happens not in journals, but in the places where the work truly matters.

Isn’t that what we all want? To be witnessed, quietly, completely. To know that for even a moment, we existed fully in someone else’s gaze.