Have you ever deemed a hermit crab a home-improver? As the tides of life shift, these shelled architects grow wearisome to their own diminutive dwellings. Oceanic housing markets are oddly niche.
Once, in a sunlit kitchen where fishy delights were mere whims of the chef, a cauldron simmered with untold secrets. Among bubbling broths, crustaceans plotted escape and reform. "It's not the shell but the spice within," mused Blinky the lobster.
Such whimsical pondering from the sharp-clawed diners leaves only a melancholic echo. Sunset hues collectivize the longing for shores once trodden. We seek nostalgia in shells, fragile prisons of sea-ward journeys.
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