When even driftwood poses for a beach photoshoot.

The driftwood caught my eye—a gnarled skeleton of some long-forgotten tree. Its twisted branches seemed to reach out toward the sea as if yearning for the life it once knew. The waves lapped at the shore with an indifferent rhythm, their greenish hues shifting under the weight of the evening clouds. I couldn’t help but wonder about the journey this piece of wood had taken to end up here. Perhaps it had traveled through storms and tides to find its resting place on this quiet stretch of sand. The air carried the faint scent of salt and damp earth, grounding me in the moment as I stood there watching nature’s quiet interplay of motion and stillness.