The road was long, a ribbon of ancient silence where her sandals gathered the history of the world. With every step, she collected the grit of the Judean earth, the fine powder of the shifting dunes, and the invisible, glittering weight of cosmic dust—fallout from stars that had died just to light her path.
She carried a woven basket, its weight rhythmic against her hip. With a practiced, trembling grace, she prepared its interior, smoothing the linens as if lining a sanctuary. She moved with the quiet focus of one fulfilling a prophecy, unaware—or perhaps all too aware—of the eyes upon her. Nearby, shadowed by the scent of cedar and sweat, the carpenter lay in wait, his tools silent, his breath held in the space between the wood and the world.
… more to come,
Artist, Writer & Lover of True Beauty ❤️🔥
"The Game" The Future is Female! 