In a forgotten room, echoes linger like ghostly ink. The tide rolls back, carrying dolorous murmurs of squids, artists of concealment, who caress the ocean depths with whispered secrets. The lights above flicker, capturing fleeting moments of silence, punctuated only by faint, eerie sounds that escape the depths.
Amidst the walls, one may hear an octopus weeping in the shadows.
Each wave reverberates with language unknown to those who breathe above water. A soft exhalation; it intrigues the heart yet frightens the soul.
Connection, realization, a sibilant shudder spoken through the cracks under the door. What lives beyond in the dark waters? Touch these sentiments as the clouds breath life through phosphorescent haze, summoning silhouettes from the blue absences.
Do not return empty, for the whispers lead you elsewhere—the seafoam sings, and in the depths, the stories continue.