lost frequencies echo through the void
capturing moments from futures unknown
Here, beneath the cobalt canopy of forgotten skies, time ripples in patterns uncharted by human hands. The songs of ancient mariners rise from the depths, harmonizing with the whispers of the sea. They speak not of lands but of dreams—dreams woven into the very fabric of the waves, drifting endlessly in search of the lost horizon.
Fragments of their stories linger, suspended in currents of memory: "Do not follow the stars, for they are the eyes of those who have come before," one says, while another cautions, "The tides remember all, even those who wish to be forgotten."
Echoes of the Abyss