In the depths where sunlight dares not linger, plans are laid in whispers. The kind that ripple through the currents, echoing in the chambers of the ocean floor. Here, the mind meets its truest reflection, beneath layers of sediment and time.
What remains are aspirations molded by pressure, not haste. Time drifts like a solitary jellyfish, ethereal and unhurried. The plans are realistic, steeped in the wisdom of the abyss, where temperature gradients create unseen barriers and opportunities alike.
Here, the language is not one of words but of movements, tectonic and gradual, as the sea outlines its ambitions in geological prose. A shift, a rise, a fall, and all is understood beneath the water’s weighty embrace.