The ocean, eternal and ancient, breathes differently than the land does, its rhythm foreign to our touch. It whispers secrets in salt and shadow, and beneath its vast skin, many appendages reside, phantoms of forgotten giants.
Worn by time and tide, these extremities stretch and curl, not unlike roots reaching for nourishment, but these rootless grasping hands seek something unknown. Or perhaps they simply exist, serene in their solitude.
Once, we painted the shore with our footprints, our ambitions scrawled in the sand, impermanent and silly under the eye of eternity. Now, the appendages bear witness, indifferent and stoic.
Desolate constructs of imaginary realms, they extend into the deep. What do they know of arms and symbiosis? These alien limbs could tell tales of bounding moonlit waters and dreams dwelling in the deep recesses of historic seas, if only they could breathe.
Explore the Depths of Origin