The echoes resound, threading through time's disheveled loom. Patterns of the tide, whispered secrets intermixed with forgotten dreams.

Looping, oscillating, the sound of waves crashing in a silent room, a memory of what was—what is always, perhaps. The dance of shadows under the broken moon.

Whispered echoes of a tidal song, unfinished yet eternal. The sand remembers what the sea forgets, a cyclical tale in tones of grey and green.