The feature stands tall in the sands, seeming impossibly high.
Is impossibly high. And the dreaming figure stands at the bottom, squinting up into the sun, up up forever at the cliff that seems to grow as he watches.
And yet, despite it all, he can still see the Flowers on the Cliff, still catch their sweet perfume in the air.
The dreaming figure smiles before facing the wind as they stand with the flowers at the edge of the cliff, eyes closing in bliss for they were where now they belonged.