Beneath an open sky, where water meets the earth, the boy stands quiet, wrapped in shadows of his worth. His gaze is steady, neither joy nor sorrow told, a story etched in silence, both gentle and bold. His dark skin glows like sun-kissed soil, his jacket worn, a shield from toil. The world behind him—mud and sand—Stretches wide, a patient land. The water, calm, reflects the trees, their leaves a whisper on the breeze. A faded hut with a weathered face holds secrets of a slower pace. Hints of boats and distant homes, blurred like dreams where the young boy roams. the greens and grays, the earth’s embrace, frame the stillness of his face. In a rural world of muted hues, he stands—a bridge of past and views. For in his eyes, a quiet might, a soul as deep as day’s first light.
Mundabd