There is a reason castles end up on cliffs.
It is not strategic, whatever the architects said. It is because the people who built them wanted to live at the edge of something to hear the sea at night, to feel the building hold against the wind, to watch storms arrive from a long way off and know the walls would still be standing when they passed.
This is two hours of that. Waves on rock, steady and unhurried. A wind that has been crossing open water for a hundred miles. Low strings and a choir somewhere underneath it all, never louder than the ocean.
It was made for books that do not flinch. The ones that go somewhere dark and stay there long enough to mean it.
