Whispers of salt air linger, where crabs converse with unseen tides, contemplating the paradox of shell and sea, the dichotomy of form. A pearl, once an irritant's nest, becomes a jewel of irony, light refracted in its spiral core.
Can the crab know the ocean's depth, feel the moon's pull in its tiny heart? When shells crack under the weight of dreams, do they weep in brine, or laugh at the folly of fish tales? Pearls of irony, hidden in darkened sands, await seekers with the rare gift of sight.
Here, in this kaleidoscope of thought, the mind tumbles like a lost star—do you hear the echoes of shells singing? Or is it the voice of the wind, weaving stories in sand, only to be erased by time's restless waves?