My oldest memory of sea urchin is rather violent. It was in the summer, way back when I was 5 or 6 years old. I was walking on a rocky beach in Kujukuri Chiba Japan with my mother when she found something between some rocks and cracked it open. Then she held it out to me and told me to eat it. It was a sea urchin. I love sea urchin now, but I still remember the shock of sea urchin being cracked open right front of me, the orange flesh appeared in the perfect container that nature designed for it. It felt violent especially coming from my very sweet and polite mother. I also remember that it was fresh, tasted like butter, and that I felt guilty that we killed it. The article for this shoot which, by the way, has nothing to do with my story, is right here.