The cliff sits alone. Rain pours down on it and hailstones bombard it. Waves crash against its base and the wind howls along its surface. Sometimes a rock, or a clump of dirt, will break loose. It will fall, bouncing along the cliff face, tumbling through miles of air, to land with a barely perceptible 'plop' into the crashing waters off the Atlantic. No one sees the rock fall. No one sees it tumble along the cliff, shaking loose dirt and smaller pebbles as it drops. The brown hollow it fell from is not seen – for the moss and grass growing along every inch of cliff soon covers the spot. So the rock falls. Unnoticed. Unwatched. Unheard.