Sea-mulation (129)

Before our eyes rises a horizon of light, like a cathedral shaped by the ocean. The columns soar like delicate liquid crystals, capturing the reflections of a sun slipping into the waters. Everything here seems to breathe with vertical momentum, as if the sea, weary of spreading endlessly, suddenly chose to rise. It builds its own towers, fragile and translucent, before dissolving once again into the flow. The eye wanders through this shifting architecture, wavering between solidity and transparency, between permanence and vanishing. This vision unveils a secret: the sea is not merely a surface, but a temple and a sanctuary, the unseen dwelling of wandering souls. In this dizzying play of colors, a gentle truth emerges: even water, fluid and elusive, holds the power to build cathedrals of light. And what if our own lives, fragile as they may be, could also rise as architectures of clarity?