In every grain of sand, there lies a story. In every breeze, a memory. Hypnotic, repetitive, the whispers circle in endless loops.
Hearken to the tales upon silver dunes, echoes murmuring tales of time.
The sun's descent washes the landscape in ethereal tones, a tranquil rippling of silver and shadow, whispering. Whispering. Whispering...
Time blurs as you wander the ebbs and flows of the dunes, a sea frozen in the act of motion.
Inhale the stories, exhale the silence. Silences washed in echoes of whispered tales.
Where tracks vanish with each gust, leaving only the soft memory of warmth upon your path.
The dunes breathe beneath your feet; a constant, rhythmic pulse, hypnotic. Repetitive.