It took a while to regain control of its senses, and recognise for what it was, the smooth black structure coasting ashore. A man. Its memory in sandstone. This giant figure was of late, its favoured vantage point, its lookout high-ground. It knew to recognise it by the half-covered feet with barren toes, now tilted to a side and frozen helpless in the air, unlike the head and torso it supported, by now already half-eaten by the yellow tide. There used to be more to this great figure of before. Addings of shape and meaning… Things, worn and carried… A thing on the head, something in the hand… These too had surrendered to yellow.