[100 Challenge] Ocean_13

Salt Tang and Expanse

The ocean breathes in whispers, a vast tapestry of liquid silk unraveling at the edges of the world. Beneath its surface, shadows shift and dissolve, their forms elusive, like fragments of a half-remembered dream slipping through the fingers of thought. The horizon blurs where the sky meets the water, a quiet merging of elements that feels less like a boundary and more like a conversation—soft, unhurried, infinite. A single gull arcs across the expanse, its cry distant yet sharp, cutting through the stillness like a thread pulled taut between here and elsewhere. The waves roll forward in steady procession, not as conquerors but as patient witnesses, wearing down stone and silence alike with their tireless rhythm. The air carries the faint tang of salt and something older, something that resists naming, as if the sea itself holds memories too vast to be spoken. To stand at its edge is to feel both small and vast at once, caught in the pull of something ancient and unknowable.