I could go for some cliffs right about now. Some cliffs and some green. Wind whipping my hair, my clothes. I’d stand right on the edge and look down to see the waves pounding against hard rock, worn away by time and fury. I’d look up and dream of how it would feel to be a bird, soaring off those cliffs, diving down to touch the water and then returning to red tinged skies. I’d wish I could jump, with no consequences. To feel the rush of cool air as I fall and a splash of salty water as I became part of the waves. I’d swim until I could touch the horizon and then return. To sit once again above the chaos. Above the thunder. Above the roar. To sit and watch and be windblown once again from the safety of my perch.