Hey there, you ever find yourself drifting, like, beneath the waves where no one can hear? Those hollow chambers, they're the quiet secrets of the sea.
Wrapped in solitude, the whispers talk back sometimes—like an old vinyl playing without end. You just gotta listen real close to catch the stories they're telling.
Once, I asked the ocean, "Where do lost tides go?" and it murmured back, "Every ripple holds a story away from shore, waiting for hands to unveil the wet parchment of its spoken dreams."