Beneath the aqueous veil, a myriad of palimpsests reside, untouched and untouched. Fossils of linguistics rest in sediment, erased by time’s cedent—a history not forgotten but washed anew.
Word fragments cling to ancient coral atolls; epochs inscribed in redacted whispers. The ocean, with its methodical metronome of erasure, holds narratives untold, mysteries inscribed in the languages of foam and salt.
Herein lies the paradoxical query: as we تretrieved the erased, what were we to scribe anew? Holographic palimpsests embossed into the ocean floor, each wave an editor, each tide a novelist.