Stagnation: that fine art of imitating life by consuming it and then letting it digest silently within. Here, in the sea of silence, the waves are whispers and the tides a forgotten lullaby.
"Do nothing," it sings—an ironic hymn to ambition. Watch as the stars in this silent abyss carefully plot your next nap. Beneath the surface, the currents of complacency caress the forgotten dreams like unmarked graves in a serene landscape.
"Tomorrow, perhaps," the sea murmurs, in a voice that echoes through the corridors of procrastination. Here lies the ultimate paradox: a tranquility that mocks the noise of purpose.