The ocean floor was not dark; it was a blue so deep it felt like velvet. There, the shipwrecked man was not searching for air; he was searching for truth. Suddenly, the Sea Serpent—that which represents all the fears humanity prefers to ignore—emerged from the crevices.

Where others would have closed their eyes, the shipwrecked man opened his arms wide. There was no struggle, only total surrender. Upon touching the beast's scales, the extraordinary occurred: the serpent’s flesh dissolved into pure photons of light. It was no longer a creature; it was an electric current, a warm and familiar energy that enveloped the man, merging with the sunlight piercing the surface from thousands of meters above.

As the electricity lifted him, the water began to vibrate with a strange and beautiful melody. It was an echo, a whisper of guitars descending from the air: Hotel California. The man smiled; it was the sound of civilization, of habit, of the world awaiting him. But he was no longer the same man who had sunk.

In the midst of that vertiginous rise, a man’s voice, resonating with absolute confidence, asked the definitive question: —“Do you want to tend to the flowers?”

The shipwrecked man looked around. He saw the starfish and thought they were the flowers of the abyss. But in that moment of Wonder, his memories projected onto the walls of bubbles surrounding him. He saw every moment of his life, every danger, every solitude, and noticed an invisible thread of love that had always protected him.

—“I know there isn't much to tend to,” —he concluded with infinite peace—. “Because life itself takes care of us in every heartbeat. But to my home... to my home I must return.”

The shipwrecked man broke the surface not as a survivor, but as an architect of light. He emerged from the sea knowing that his home was not just a physical place, but the space where that trust is shared.

P.S. This is not just a written story; it is the story that comes to life right now, at this very second, while you read it with curiosity.

The ocean floor was not dark; it was a blue so deep it felt like velvet. There, the shipwrecked man was not searching for air; he was searching for truth. Suddenly, the Sea Serpent—that which represents all the fears humanity prefers to ignore—emerged from the crevices.

Where others would have closed their eyes, the shipwrecked man opened his arms wide. There was no struggle, only total surrender. Upon touching the beast's scales, the extraordinary occurred: the serpent’s flesh dissolved into pure photons of light. It was no longer a creature; it was an electric current, a warm and familiar energy that enveloped the man, merging with the sunlight piercing the surface from thousands of meters above.

As the electricity lifted him, the water began to vibrate with a strange and beautiful melody. It was an echo, a whisper of guitars descending from the air: Hotel California. The man smiled; it was the sound of civilization, of habit, of the world awaiting him. But he was no longer the same man who had sunk.

In the midst of that vertiginous rise, a man’s voice, resonating with absolute confidence, asked the definitive question: —“Do you want to tend to the flowers?”

The shipwrecked man looked around. He saw the starfish and thought they were the flowers of the abyss. But in that moment of Wonder, his memories projected onto the walls of bubbles surrounding him. He saw every moment of his life, every danger, every solitude, and noticed an invisible thread of love that had always protected him.

—“I know there isn't much to tend to,” —he concluded with infinite peace—. “Because life itself takes care of us in every heartbeat. But to my home... to my home I must return.”

The shipwrecked man broke the surface not as a survivor, but as an architect of light. He emerged from the sea knowing that his home was not just a physical place, but the space where that trust is shared.

P.S. This is not just a written story; it is the story that comes to life right now, at this very second, while you read it with curiosity.