In the fold of the evening skies, the stars whisper secrets, and secrets whisper tales, tales becoming shadows that dance on the horizon—forever forward, forever backward—until they blend into the dusk's embrace.
Upon a moonlit shore, a sailor finds a shell. Inside the shell, a voice: “Listen to the echoes, listen as they wane and wax, as the tides do.” The sailor listens, listens, listens, and the echo tells of worlds forgotten, dreams awoken in the silent dawn.
The rhythm of the tides, the tides of time, laps softly at the consciousness, lapping gently, lapping ever on. Read the stories, read between the lines of reality and fiction, and find your own reflection in the ripples of infinity.