The young boy had covered his face and the camel’s face to shield them from the desert sands.
The woman had come to the beach alone for a walk. Her colorful, traditional outfit was beautiful.
It was as if time had stood still in the house; it remained anchored in the past and its own happy moments.
The migratory birds were flying one after another in a line, crossing over the sea.
this is a salute for a war in which the weapon has given way to the book, and the battlefield has shifted from ravaged earth to the awakened mind.
It was a beautiful, snowy morning, yet the man was completely absorbed in his phone; the structure of the pedestrian bridge resembled a dark recess, framing him as a solitary, isolated figure at its far end.
Sometimes there was no embrace for me; I became my own sanctuary.