Amidst the lantern's flicker, a silent hymn rose like damp mist over ancient stones. For here, on this solemn shore, the ocean scripts its melancholy verses onto sand and soul alike. The sky, a widow clad in whispered twilight, held the stars' distant gaze; witness to ephemeral confessions unmasked by the night’s mournful breath.
Simplicity found in the absence of sound. The water's edge spoke a language long forgotten, a Gothic script inscribed by the tides—a cryptic prayer to the silence that swallows the world, drawing its edges into an everlasting dusk.