Harbor of Serenity

Dawn paints the sky in hues of liquid gold as the village breathes in silence. An elderly fisherman, hands etched with time, tends to his nets like threads of memory woven into the tide. Wooden houses, crowned in thatch, slumber beneath mist-laced mountains. The ocean mirrors the light—a trembling canvas where seagulls trace whispers over glassy waves. Lamps flicker on weathered verandas, fragile stars defying the fading night. Here, salt-kissed air carries stories older than the mountains: a harbor where time rests its weary wings