The rocky shore stands, pebbles and sand creeping up it. Bluegreen and cold, wind and water make rhythmic sounds upon the air. Misty clouds idle in the sky; I watch softly, smelling the salt and the water. The wet ground parts as I dig my foot into its cool surface. The space lingers in the sand, but the water reclaims it. I turn my back to the sea, facing the cliffs. Why am I here?

Harojna smiles at me and my attempts to climb the cliff. He sits with the surf washing over his legs, foam splashing. With sweat dripping I look down at him, confounded as to this odd individual’s contentment. Why should he sit grinning in the surf?

Rock crumbles and breaks, scratches and bites. My hands and feet are raw as I climb up to the top of this ledge. I slowly stain the rocks as I progress. The surfaces become slick with my blood; but my weary muscles move forward with practiced skill.
I Shall get to the top.
I stand among dried grass, clinging dearly for life upon the hard back and forth among the salty air, the sounds of the sea can no longer be heard from this height. But I have accomplished, why should it matter?

I stand upon this pinnacle, gazing forth upon the endless waters. I do not have the strength to climb back down; my body is bloodied and my breath is weak. I try to eat the grass, but it does not give sustenance. Years upon this wind-torn peak have kept it close to death, barely strong enough to propagate itself. This is no place to remain, but where else can I go?

With a mournful sigh, I plummet upon the waves below.