Walk this way—unless you're a boat!

The path stretched ahead like an invitation to nowhere in particular. On one side, the marina hummed with quiet activity; boats bobbed gently as if nodding in agreement with the rhythm of the afternoon. On the other side stood the sturdy concrete barriers of the breakwater, their surfaces etched with warnings that seemed both practical and poetic in their bluntness. The hill in the distance looked like it had been plucked from a postcard—green and serene against the endless blue of sky and sea. I walked slowly, listening to the faint clinking of boat masts and feeling the sun warm my shoulders. Every step felt deliberate, as though I was tracing some invisible line between human order and natural chaos. The breeze carried a faint scent of salt and something else I couldn’t quite place—perhaps time itself.