The echoes of the water lapping against the wooden planks were like a forgotten melody. Each wave whispered secrets of the world beyond, where the dreams of seafarers kissed the horizon. In the waning light, shadows danced atop the dock, creating illusions of figures long lost to the sea.
A fisherman sat, mending his nets, the rhythmic motion a harmony with the swell. He glanced at the horizon, where the sun painted the world in hues of gold and crimson. "It’s a false peace," he murmured, though no one was there to hear. The dock, alive with memories, knew better than to contest with illusions.
Nearby, a child played, creating castles from the sand, dreams shaped by imagination rather than reality. The child turned to the fisherman, eyes wide with the innocence of belief. "Do you see them too?" she asked. He nodded, the lines of his face telling stories only the sea could understand.