Once where the sea kissed the sky of dusk, a memory returns—to the edges of time washed by tides, there lay a whisper. The sands bore tales of ages swept away, yet the echoes remained, hauntingly beautiful.
It spoke of a forgotten fisherman's echo, poignant with nostalgia. In the quiet, you could hear the faint splashes—the rhythm of an ancient lullaby. Beneath the waves, unconventional fish danced, weaving stories untold, unnoticed, unseen.
(...) In the shadows of the undulating depths, their tails flicker like secrets in the wind. The old man with rueful eyes often said, "Sometimes the past swims alongside us, visible yet elusive, no net can grasp it."
Read further: Invisible Flow Burrows & Whispers
The tides turn again, cradling whispers once spoken in disbelief, now nestled against the shore of acceptance. The echoes brighten a little, meeting the twilight glow—a dance intertwined with time's gentle caress.