You arrive at the cliffside with a flash and are hit by the scent of salt. How long did it take you to get here? Have you been here before? You feel like an island - lonely and isolated against the unreadable and uncaring tide.

The ocean behind you is wide and deep and stretches beyond the horizon. The waves lap monotonously at the bleached rocks. The cliffside where you stand is featureless. It is an island. You suddenly can’t remember how you got here. Did you take a boat? Fly? How long have you stood, staring at the lighthouse? Has the sun set or risen since you arrived?