In the cradle of the ocean's bosom, there lies a current untold, buried by tides and forgotten by sailors. Silent and patient, it snakes through epochs, caressing lost boats with tendrils of whispered memories. It swells and whispers, a promise made to the sea in eternal surges.
Rest upon these secret waves, traveler, and listen. The boundless depths slumber as stories ride on water streams—what the earth drew thrust into the sea, by forgotten gods and the silent moon. A hand of the sea rearranging the threads woven by stars.
The allure of such currents? It hums in the rhythm of swells, echoes of sailors long past. Beneath rippling blue fabric lies chambers of liquid silk, untangling the passage of eons. Cradle what secrets it must remain. To flow is to know, says the ocean.