The lighthouse seems to be saying, 'I’ll hold the fort while you run!'

The path stretched ahead like a ribbon of defiance between land and sea. Each step on the breakwater brought me closer to the lighthouse—its white facade unwavering against the churning sky. The air was thick with the scent of salt and impending rain. A few figures moved ahead of me, their silhouettes framed by the brooding horizon. I wondered what drew them here: was it curiosity? Solitude? Or perhaps just a fleeting need to escape? The lighthouse seemed indifferent to our presence, its purpose unchanging as it stood guard over this restless edge of the world. I paused midway to watch the waves crash against the rocks below, their rhythm both chaotic and strangely soothing. It felt like standing in a moment suspended between calm and storm.