The air is thick with salt and whispered tales, where echoes of forgotten songs ripple across the water's edge. Silhouettes, cast by an invisible light, dance upon the dock, their forms ephemeral like the mist that clings to the night.
Listen closely, they say, and the harbor will unveil its secrets. Secrets of sailors long lost, their voices entwined with the breeze, murmuring softly beneath the moon's watchful gaze.
Vessels sway gently, their hulls worn smooth by the embrace of countless tides, as if cradled in the arms of ancient mariners. The harbor stands as a sentinel to time, a vast canvas painted with the brush of nightfall, where dreams and reality blur in the twilight haze.