Beneath the undulating veil of cerulean tranquility, do the fish whisper of destiny? Or perhaps they collaborate in their silvery shoaled orchestra, plotting us into Cartesian coordinates? It is folly to ignore their intrinsic wisdom, a hallowed archive of ancient currents and ebbs.
Imagine a world where octopi conspire, their euphoric ink clouding the minds of unsuspecting divers. In every curl of a tentacle, a hidden library of existential poetry, scribbled in the margins of an unfathomable abyss. Eternal seekers, are they not, these ceaseless wanderers?
Forget the terrestrial hierarchies: the fish pontificate from their submerged thrones. Who stands to question the noble whale’s decree? A fishy philosophy indeed: doctrines etched into coral cathedrals, tomes of barnacles endowed upon the fortresses of forgotten mariners.
Soaring Thoughts of Gulls Above