“Listen… it's just beyond the reach of dreams,” whispered a voice that echoes like a wave retreating into the vast blue.
At sunrise, the fog lifts, revealing snippets of conversations left untouched for decades. “I remember collecting shells,” she said, as if talking to her childhood self.
Do you recall the old boat that never sailed, corroded by salt but still sturdy? “We always thought it reached the stars.” His laughter mingles with the wind, nostalgic and bittersweet.
The shore stands unchanged, a sentinel. “Some things never change… some things never leave,” murmurs a voice, worn out like the sand beneath many feet.
Glimpse of the Horizon