Desert

There are places that humble you. The desert is one of them. Not for its silence—but for its expanse. The way it stretches without asking for your story, yet somehow listens. The way the sand gives just enough to hold your steps, then lets the wind erase them. You are here, and then you are gone.

It’s not emptiness. It’s clarity.

In the desert, time thins. The noise of needing, proving, chasing—gone. You walk not toward an answer, but into your own unfolding. You learn that thirst isn’t always for water.

Some days, presence feels like a single cloud in an endless sky. And that’s enough.