Cliffs so sharp they could cut the horizon.

The sunlight played tricks on the cliffs as I moved closer. Each crevice seemed to hold its own shadow, a quiet secret etched into the stone by time. The sea below churned with a quiet rhythm, its surface shimmering like scattered gold coins. A few birds circled above me, their cries sharp and fleeting against the vast silence. I found myself drawn to the edge—not out of recklessness but curiosity—wondering what it must feel like to be the wind that dances so freely here. The land and sea seemed locked in an eternal embrace, each shaping the other in ways both violent and tender.