Nature's idea of an open window with a sea view.

The arch stood as if sculpted by an unseen artist whose medium was time itself. Below it, the sea shimmered in shades of blue so vivid they seemed to pulse with life. The cliffs surrounding it were like pages from a geological diary, each layer a record of upheaval and erosion. I leaned against the railings, feeling the wind tug at my sleeves as if urging me to step closer. The trees above swayed gently, their shadows dancing across the sunlit stone. It felt almost theatrical—the way nature had framed this scene so perfectly. A pair of tourists debated whether the arch looked more like a doorway or a bridge; I thought it resembled neither but instead something timeless and unnameable.