Whispering currents guide these words, submerged yet vibrating with a peculiar vitality:
Riddles in the anonymity, scattered like star-lit sands across a forgotten shore. Did you hear the rumble? A synapse sparking, electric eulogy or just sea currents murmuring forgotten tales?

Echoes trapped within these fathomless ridges. Relics of voices that stretch beyond reality's fingertips—
"Once there was a lighthouse where secrets kept in glass shimmered at midnight..."

The layers whisper best at dusk, when the surface becomes a reflection of all that lies below and beyond. Repeat the pattern, and so you uncover the truth; real, untangled—like seaweed clinging to stones.