Standing atop the cliff face, he looks out upon God's creation, admiring the shape of the hills, the life of the trees. The sun shines bright on his face, and a cool breeze blows through his hair. He is the image of independance; he emobodies solitude.
He knows his disposition, he stands atop that cliff and knows the image you now know. But he thinks it flawed. He instead imagines himself on the same cliff face, on a dark, cloudy, windy, rainy night, lightening flashing all around. His face is disfigured, wrinkled, scarred. The only thing keeping him standing is a friend standing next to him, holding him up. This friend knows no body, but is a presence unlike any other. To any other eye, he sits atop the cliff on a chair made of air; he is the image of dependace; he embodies neediness.
His hair is blown everywhere, his eyes are gazed out elsewhere, but seem to have lost all focus. He is motionless. In his mind, he recounts his shortcomings, over and over again. You can see the events take place on his iris. Look closely. He finds himself sinking deeper and deeper, slouching in his chair. He could very well fall off and down the cliff face.
Suddenly, a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole place where he was sitting. He is saved, he is. If instead of resenting his dependance and grew to love it, he could thrive, and once again find himself atop a cliff face, looking out at God's creation, in admiration of the shape of the hills, the life of the trees...