Imagine, if you will, a stretch of sand under a sky you've never seen. It isn't blue, nor black, but something in-between. You hear whispers. Not wind, but voices? Let’s listen in.

Footstep 1: "Do you think waveforms feel waves just as we feel whispers?" - A curious shade pondered.

Footstep 2: "Sand here shifts like our thoughts—ungraspable, yet we try." - Another, with a touch of melancholy.