Sitting on a lamp post, invisible to those passing by beneath, she watches. And listens. Cities have changed since she first took up position outside of the ocean - far away from her sisters. Her skin is wrinkled, too dry. Eternal youth is a thing of the past, all that is left is eternity. She hears everything, and events get tangled in her silken hair before anybody knows they are about to happen. Sometimes she sings, to warn those who can still truly hear. And then she is bound to watch, unable to help, as disasters unfold and lives unravel.