In the stillness of a forgotten pond, there lay secrets whispered by the wind.
The very words written here might someday trace their echoes through time, unseen, unnoticed, yet eternal.
Consider the pebble — an innocuous object, powerless on its own — yet when cast upon the surface, it sends undulating waves, distorting reflections of stars, clouds, silent creatures dwelling beneath.
Is it the pebble that changes the pond, or the pond that transforms the pebble in its own distant memory?