Whispers curl like sea mist, embrace the boughs of cedar. Can you hear them? A salty breeze teasing leaf and thought. It’s a conversation carried by shadows, like ancient trees gossiping about the undulating depths.
Let the water speak in swells, weaving tales in roots submerged; vertical gardens where Kraken dreams furtively grow. “The ocean is a forest,” they say, “each wave a rustling leaf, each drop a solitary thought cascading from the ocean’s heart,” do you glimpse it?
Embrace the language lightly penned on bark, sealed in knots, tales of storm and serenity. “Under the surface, the reefs sing,” translates one, “while others shield the driftwood of thoughts yet unshared.” Can you taste the salt as you breathe those words?