The currents whisper through the empty corridors, when the moonlight dances on the surface and the echoes of forgotten clocks tick in a language unknown.
News of currents traverses the mind — dreams that came and went like birds seeking shelter in trees that never bore leaves.
A fisherman once said, beneath the canopy of stars...
Whispers in wind, murmurs in mystery. Did you know there was... a place where echoes decided destiny, until the tide?
Travel through portals of thought:
Mingle with the currents, dance with the fleeting...
Did you hear something underneath?