When I stepped onto the port,
the air carried a faint weight,
and the damp breath of the tide brushed across my cheek.

Far away, a low whistle trembled,
and between one wave and the next,
tiny glimmers hovered and dissolved.

I was meant to be elsewhere—
northbound, following another path—
and yet, somehow,
I had drifted here,
as if something unseen had shifted my course.

 

At the far end of the breakwater,
a figure stood still,
watching the ocean’s changing skin.
A pale fabric stirred in the wind,
catching fragments of light
and turning into a faint, transparent tailfin
for just a moment.

I slowed my steps,
quiet against the wooden planks.
But just as I moved closer,
the figure turned.
The sunlight struck from behind;
I couldn’t see the face,
only the outline,
etched sharp and bright against the sea.

 

And then—
a small sound, light as a shell’s breath:

pirorinrin──🎶

Somewhere nearby,
a hidden chime awakened.
Its soft ringing slipped into the wind,
reaching farther than it should have.

I followed its trace
and stepped into the space where air and tide blurred,
as if the sound itself had opened a passage.