When you've spent 13 hours straight watching animation, wherever you go faces rise out of the bushes. Any and everywhere, flames toss the tassells on the dragon's coat. When you've spent 13 hours watching animation and you go about with loud music plugged straight into your head, you get this dizzy sensation that can only really very slightly be blamed on the sun. It should never be like this. Wandering the cliffs is a kind of exercise, where simply the air itself can provide sufficient pleasure to sustain hours of rest. This is rest taken in lung-loads; you rest while seeing the sea and headlands mix. But when you've gone 13 hours seeing nothing but animated films, your mind wanders. Furthermore, when you've spent those 13 hours watching specifically Chinese animated films, their particular brand of magic and folly sustain your thoughts, dipping them. And when dipping your thoughts, these dreams of monkeys and pig-headed warriors dip your thoughts specifically in burning gold and cool them off with spring water that's streamed straight down the mountains. These are all imaginary. Everything's magnificent, but when you've spent 13 hours straight watching Chinese animation and you go straight out for a walk under the lowering sun and the air hits you extremely fresh, all around your earphones, with the music turned up too high, you're risking something: the world swims. There's too much to feel. Money and cars are left behind around prehistoric granite. Forgetting means you begin to live, but after watching Chinese animation for 13 hours straight, the sensation of existing, sudden, along with breaths, can be enough to tip you up and back into the ferns and brambles. The granite's around you with the sea below, so go steady on the cliffs.