The ferry looks like it's racing the sailboats, but nobody told the sailboats.

The harbor stretched wide before me, its waters alive with movement. A green ferry carved through the surface like a blade through silk, leaving behind a wake that dissolved into gentle ripples. Sailboats glided lazily in the distance, their white sails catching the sunlight like scattered fragments of clouds. The shoreline was a patchwork of quiet homes and lush greenery, as if the city had paused to admire its own reflection in the water. I leaned over the railing and watched as the ferry’s wake reached the shore in soft whispers. It was strange how even in this bustling scene there was an undercurrent of calm—a rhythm that seemed to sync with my own steps.