The tide rolled out from the quiet town of Seascale, revealing a heap of mumbling rocks. They were dressed in algae and drank seawater punch from shells. They looked at the horizon, where little houses sat dreaming. Clouds puffed above them like thoughts in a child’s mind. Soon the sea would cover the rocks and they would see this sight no more. ‘Ah,’ the rocks whispered, ‘to live only for the moment’.