That is one big rock. Or a whole buttload of really, really small rocks. If you jumped from the top of that rock, and I mean off of it, not just up and down in one place or like a little kangaroo or something, but really just ran and jumped from the top of that rock and into the air and then aimed yourself toward the edge and launched yourself off of the rock and began to plummet toward the ground way, way, way far below the rock, then you'd be falling a long time, like even longer than this...
"Even in a finite universe, a rock doesn't keep being a rock. Things are always disintegrating and becoming other things." Our Tragic Universe, Scarlett Thomas
There was once a rock, a very old rock, a rock which had laid low for a very long time. It couldn't remember how long that long time actually was but somehow knew without needing to remember that that long time was long enough. It was a rock that took great pride in its appearance, habitually watering its neat lawn of grass, combing its thick coat of moss, trimming it at least once a week....
"Dear Mom and Dad,
I made it to Boston. I figured you'd like the postcard I picked out. The dog reminds me of Rex, be sure to hug him for me. I came here with 25 dollars and a full tank of gas. I'm going to make it here someday, I'm telling you. Tell Dad I said thanks for repairing the car, and be sure to tell him I'll pay him back with a brand new car when I make it. I'm spending the night at some run-down hotel tonight, don't worry about me. I'm not coming back home until...