Along the forgotten shore, the hermit lived by what the sea surrendered. Each tide brought offerings — driftwood, rope, a battered wheel, a chest filled with trinkets of other men’s journeys. He gathered them all, not for wealth but for the stories they carried, pieces of the world he no longer sought but still longed to know. With lantern in hand and nets slung across his shoulder, he readied for another night’s fishing. At his side, the bird waited, loyal companion and ever-hopeful for scraps. Together they walked the line between solitude and the sea, keepers of a quiet life shaped by waves.