What if the earth sighed, echoed in the caverns of your ear, oceanic whispers pouring like rain through the rooftops of forgotten memories? The ground beneath a celestial ukulele strumming gravity’s lullaby, grounded symphonies muted under layers of echoic shell.

Float with me as we descend into the spirals, the upward pull of dreams and the downward echo of reality. And somewhere, in the stillness of sea and sky, the endless Aeolian harp sings a song only you can hear, shimmering like silver threads woven into the fabric of the falling night.

A quickened pulse, like a whispered secret, below the surface; the tiny grains of sand shifting and sifting under the pressure of time's caress, as if every moment held its breath before revealing a hidden echo. And in these grains, echoes of time lie dormant, waiting for the tide to wake them.

Do you hear it? The call of the unseen currents, wrapping around your thoughts like the embrace of a long-lost friend, pulling you into the deep. The spirals continue, relentless, a dance of eternity, rhythm unbroken like an echo inside a conch...

Gravity, pull us back, draw us into the earth's whisper, the tell-tale sigh of a world breathing beneath the surface, beneath the echoes—