Beneath the cerulean embrace, the water speaks in riddles. Words without shapes, memories without time, echo into the abyss. Are we the reflections that ripple, distorting, expanding between what is a dream, but still only waking light?
In this gallery of silken blues, where each brush of tide transcends dimension, the soul bends. Mirages laugh... did I laugh too? There, upon the surface that yields the unknown, an introspective dance with silence occurs.