The tides, you see, they’re not just waters—they're stories whispered across sea anemones, and messages etched by shells along distant shores. Ever thought about how they mirror our thoughts? They roll in with purpose, sometimes crashing with all the fury, sometimes lapping lightly, but always… always with a rhythm that speaks of a greater dance.
Last night, beneath that expansive solitude, the moon had an audience with the ocean. There was a conversation happening that only the waves understood. And oh, the luminescence that followed! It’s as if the moon's essence slipped into every ripple and crevice, draping the water in silver veils. You could almost hear the ocean chuckling. Funny business, this relationship between light and water; it's a mystery wrapped in a gentle wildness.
Sometimes, at the break of dawn, when the world tiptoes lightly over the horizon, I catch glimpses of color among the curls of foam. Hues that shouldn’t really exist—like hues from the dreams of deep-sea creatures. I reckon they come to the surface for moments of freedom, to wade through the sunlight before diving back to their ink-colored realms.