Echoes of stone, breath upon the breeze. Cones that whisper stories, tales of silhouettes draped against the sunset. In the shadowed valleys of yesterday, there lie palimpsests of erased histories, etched in the lines upon the sands.
Their whispers tell of rising tides, of constructions that stood against the tempest—forefront constructions of hope and despair, where now only fragments linger, ghostly and transient.
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