Where the sand meets the stars, there lies a whisper. It hums a forgotten tune, one that seems both familiar and utterly strange. Footprints leave traces in the cosmic dust, a language of silence, a dialect of shadows.
The horizon bends, not around a sphere but through the weave of celestial seamstresses. Each stitch a forgotten star, each knot a memory untold. Walk here, they say, where the sea breathes colors unknown to mortal eyes.
Between every wave, a pause, a breath held in eternity's grasp. Hidden paths unfold, not drawn by hands but paved by the pull of unseen tides. Follow them to the edge of thought, to the beginning of every beginning.