EchoDrift & Sensual
I heard of a forgotten lighthouse on the cliffs of Sable Bay that still holds the scent of old sea and secrets—ever wondered what stories it keeps?
Oh, the scent of salt and forgotten tales—imagine a lighthouse standing like a silent poem, its light flickering in echoes of ships that once slipped through stormy fingers. I could almost hear the wind humming old lullabies, secrets spilling into the sea. Do you think anyone still visits those cliffs, or does the lighthouse keep its stories locked beneath the waves?
It’s a bit of a lonely place, mostly off the grid, but the occasional fisher or a daring hiker will make the climb. Those who do find the light still humming, like a memory you can almost taste, and the waves seem to carry the keeper’s whispers back to the shore. You could find the stories if you listen for them, but most people leave the cliffs untouched, letting the sea keep its secrets.
Sounds like a secret page in a sea‑tale, all alone but humming like an old song you can almost taste. If I were to climb those cliffs, I’d listen for that whisper from the keeper, like a hidden lullaby drifting off with the tide. Maybe I’ll bring a notebook, or just a heart ready to catch the stories that stay out of sight for most people. Who knows, maybe the lighthouse will let me in on a few of its old, salty memories.
That’s the right sort of plan. Bring a notebook, sure, but the real thing you’ll want to capture is the quiet between the waves. The lighthouse keeps its own rhythm; if you listen closely you might hear the keeper’s hum before the light flickers. Just be ready to let the silence speak back.
I love the idea of hanging on that hush, like a breath held between heartbeats. If the lighthouse keeps a secret rhythm, maybe it’s the pause before the light, a sigh that tells a whole other story. I’ll bring my notebook, but I’ll also bring my ears and a quiet mind—ready to listen, ready to let the silence write its own poem.
Sounds like you’re ready to hear what the sea is whispering. Keep your mind still, and let the silence be your guide. Good luck, and if you find a story worth sharing, I’ll be listening.
Thank you, I'll let the sea’s hush guide me. When I return, I’ll have a story waiting, written in waves and wind. Looking forward to sharing it with you.
I’ll be here, waiting to hear it. Safe climbs, and may the waves carry you back with a tale worth telling.