The waves seem to be practicing their choreography for an audience of clouds.

The shadows stretched long on the golden sand as I walked further along the shore. The waves broke in rhythmic whispers against the edge of the land, their edges curling like pages of an old book being turned by an unseen hand. Above me, the sky seemed to hold its breath—clouds thick and heavy with unspoken thoughts. I noticed two faint shadows cast on the sand nearby; they stood still, as if waiting for someone to notice them. The dunes in the distance were crowned with tufts of grass swaying gently in a breeze that carried both warmth and a hint of salt. The scene felt timeless, as though it had been waiting for centuries just to be seen this way. Even the ocean seemed aware of its own grandeur but chose to express it quietly, wave by wave.