voices in the stone
i sat with them, though not really. two men, basking in the spill of midday sun, locked in a timeless ritual—exchange. the crumbling stone of palma watched on, silent and stern. the beard punctuated the air with gestures, while the can of soda burned red like a thread through their banter. below, a painted shadow slipped between newsprint columns, anchoring them to the everyday. here, the sacred and the ordinary blend—words, walls, and a whisper of history folded into the folds of conversation.
voices in the stone
i sat with them, though not really. two men, basking in the spill of midday sun, locked in a timeless ritual—exchange. the crumbling stone of palma watched on, silent and stern. the beard punctuated the air with gestures, while the can of soda burned red like a thread through their banter. below, a painted shadow slipped between newsprint columns, anchoring them to the everyday. here, the sacred and the ordinary blend—words, walls, and a whisper of history folded into the folds of conversation.