Living like a lighthouse keeper - alone beyond nowhere. Out of sight and out of one's mind, beyond the range of prayer. One's loss unnoticed until there's a wreck upon the rocks. Counted on to prevent chaos from out in the boondocks. A world that doesn't want, or know, you begs your best attention, but will forget to give all but its stern reprehension should you fail or should you falter and catastrophe strikes, they will find your long dead body with their pitchforks and their pikes.
The lonely lighthouse keeper, peering through a deep-set but narrow window at waves smashing onto the rocky shore, spouting upwards in a fanned geyser. So much depends upon his maintenance of momentum, but the better things go, the more dreadfully boring is life, and when things go poorly, there are russian roulette odds of tragedy. Like life on a mountain, but when someone crashes into the mountainside, the mountain-man is an unlikely participant in the tragedy.