Time slips like water through fingers, right? Can't really catch it, just shape it whenever you like. Ever notice how raindrops paint your window? Something magical in that transient company, whispering tales from the tide, secrets from the shore.
Moments hum a tune, a melody woven with yesterday's regrets and
tomorrow's hope.
Ever tried to hum along with just a shadow of its meaning?
You stand, rooted in whispers, lost in the gentle roar.
Do stars remember? Or is their memory a secret held by the sea? Sometimes, when the tides call softly, I'd like to think they're laughing with the moon, writing stories in ripples...
Navigate through the whispers and read the unsaid.
Or just drift a little: Silent Currents | Retrace in Depth