Submerged Echoes

Salt crusts the doorframes of the ballroom, where chandeliers once hummed with light. Now, only the slow tide waltzes with the velvet, dragging silt across the inlaid oak.

Bicycles bloom into iron coral in the alleys, their spokes catching the drift of kelp. A mirror reflects the underside of the surface, a sky of liquid lead and silver bubbles.

Silence is a heavy garment here, woven from the weight of fathoms. The city breathes in bubbles, exhaling ghosts that rise to break against the keels of passing ships.