The waves retreated, leaving footprints in the sand, stories etched briefly before washed away. On these shores, silence becomes a companion, a calm presence amidst the whispering echoes of what once was, and what could have been.
"What tales would they tell? The shores, if only they could speak in the language of the stars."
Beneath the endless sky, there lies a multitude of lost chapters. Fragments of dreams drift like the seabreeze, and every grain of sand holds a piece of a life story. Perhaps, somewhere, a child draws a line in the sand, marking borders of kingdoms of imagination, kings to be, battles unwaged.
And here, at the edge of all things, one might find solace. The calm before the tides not just of the sea, but of time itself. In this silence, there is a promise—a promise that one day, these tales will rise again, like long-forgotten memories at dawn's first light.
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