Once, the tides were systematic: relentless rhythms sculpting shores and shaping destinies. But what of the forgotten tides?
The philosopher mused: "If I forget, shall I still be remembered?" Almost comedic, like a misplaced surfboard.
Interior thoughts are like the ocean's undercurrent: they pull, they push, unpredictable and deep.
Scene: A lone walrus attempts stand-up comedy on an iceberg, audience unknown. "Why did the crab cross the road?" It asks, pause for effect... "To forget how crabs cross roads!" Silence, dismay, the tide listens.