I was– I am– I will soon be standing on the edge of a cliff. In some ways I will always be– I always am– I have always been standing here. Time and tenses don’t mean very much on the edge of the world, and there is really nothing else you can call this place. Below me, I can see nothing but the beach melting into the water, and the tiny ant-like people running around on it. Standing here, it is easy to believe that the horizon is a place you could touch, and the Earth itself ends where the ocean meets the sky. Standing here, it is easy to believe almost anything.
Millions of people have been here before me, and millions will come after, and each of us will feel as if we are the only one to have ever come here. Part of the magic of this place is its ability to make a person feel important even while being faced with the vast sea and endless sky. The other part of the magic, of course, lies in the people on the beach below, reminding you that even as you feel like Zeus surveying the world from Olympus, you are not so far from looking like an ant playing in the waves.
This is the edge of the world, where you can walk those lines by standing on a cliff.