A lone figure sits facing the open land, wrapped in blue, grounded against the vastness of the desert. The sky is soft and endless, the horizon quiet. There are no words here—only stillness, distance, and breath. Whatever was carried into this place has been set down, at least for a moment.
Desert Prayer is about solitude as devotion. Not religion in a formal sense, but the kind of prayer that happens when no one is watching—when the world is stripped to earth, sky, and a single human presence. It’s the act of listening instead of asking. Of sitting long enough for the noise to fall away.
The figure’s back is turned, inviting the viewer into the same posture: pause, humility, reflection. The desert doesn’t answer, but it holds the silence. And in that silence, something steadies.

Interest-free.