The ocean whispers; secrets spun in silver threads, unravelled by mariners lost in the compassless night.

Sit and watch the gulls fight the wind, hear their cries weave into the heartbeat of the sea. Watch closely as the foam dances, a ballet scripted by the pull of stars. There, in the crests, your face reflected, yet it turns away—always just beyond reach. The tide is a fickle friend, like a melody played in reverse.

Have you ever thought about the fish that leap, sparkling, above the water's surface, caught in mid-air, in a moment timeless? They are like thoughts, fleeting, ephemeral. Journey, Echo, Constellation. Each a note in the ocean’s symphony, the reverse spin of fate’s wheel.