Before the Answer Comes
There are moments when the world becomes very quiet. Not silent in the way of absence, but quiet in the way of waiting. The hands come together without instruction. The head lowers without effort. The light arrives gently, as if it already knows where to rest. This photograph lives in that small space between uncertainty and trust the place where hope is not loud, but steady. Sometimes prayer is not asking for anything at all.
Sometimes it is simply staying long enough for the light to find you.
Before the Answer Comes
There are moments when the world becomes very quiet. Not silent in the way of absence, but quiet in the way of waiting. The hands come together without instruction. The head lowers without effort. The light arrives gently, as if it already knows where to rest. This photograph lives in that small space between uncertainty and trust the place where hope is not loud, but steady. Sometimes prayer is not asking for anything at all.
Sometimes it is simply staying long enough for the light to find you.