Do you remember those sleepy shores we once visited—where songs of the ancient waves lulled us into that hazy summer daze? People often marveled at how we found peace in the incessant crashings, maybe it was intoxicating, or perhaps, we envied their struggle. They say the sea doesn't change, and yet, here we sit, cradling bitter memories like shipwreck debris.
"Hey, did I ever tell you about the time the ocean almost stole my shoes?" a friend interrupts my reverie, breaking the lingering silence. It's funny, the way we cling to these snippets of inconsequence, like seagulls scavenging amid the sands of time.
Night falls gently, cloaked in stars and mysteries. Its lullabies are hushed, but if you listen, really listen, you'll hear them weave tales with tides below.