I stood with my back to the cliffs of the boundary of conciousness; the wind farm turning behind me built in the stream of the updrafts coming from beyond and below them.

Listening to the muffled roar of the sea swell hitting this solid continent hundereds of feet beneath the salty cliff edge soil and it's clumps of seathrift.

Fulmars throwing themselves up through the gusts and sliding out to sea between the layers of buffetting air.

I slowly took a few steps forward, inland.

Taking turns to watch the horizon.