In a world where mists cradle forgotten echoes, the whispers of memories weave through the air, tethered to fading sails under a moonlit abyss.
The horizon drifts, cradled by boats that sail through unseen currents—silent travelers carrying the weight of a million unspoken tales.
Once the shores erupted with laughter, now cocooned in the sighs of those departed, fragmented conversations scatter upon the waters.
Mark the vessels of sorrow and fleeting joy, where the silkiness of time leeches sunbeams from below. They swell and dip like breathing, ancient souls emerging upon marbled waves.
Can you hear them? The disembodied laughter floats through phosphorescent nights—it chooses not to linger, as will-o'-the-wisps dance, teasing the edges of sanity.