The shore is a threshold. Behind you, the certainty of dry ground. Ahead, the ocean's invitation to weightlessness. Every wave that reaches the sand is a hand extended.
In the shallows, light still remembers the sky. It fractures through the water surface into dancing caustic patterns, painting the sand with a language of pure refraction.
Korean fishermen call this zone 얕은 바다 — the shallow sea. Where the seabed is still visible and the water warm enough to wade.
Each step deeper changes the quality of silence. Sound travels differently in water. What was a roar becomes a hum becomes a pulse.
바다