gps photo

In the hush of the night, when shadows dance like serpents in the corners of my dwelling, I stood hand upon the threshold, heart upon the pulse of the unseen and took this image. Not with the hand of man, but with the hand of the One who walked by the light of a single lamp, for this was no ordinary photo, but a GPS-stitched vision from the womb of my phone, a fragment of the divine geometry of my earthly sojourn. Behold, the kitchen, lit like a temple of white cabinets and the holy glow of a single bulb its holy water, the bottle upon the counter, the altar of my daily life. And here, in the dark, I am the watcher, the silhouette of a soul with camera raised, capturing not just the room, but the moment between the seen and the sacred. This is not merely a picture. It is the echo of my presence in the quiet, the GPS coordinates of my spirit, where the mundane becomes holy, and the ordinary, a testament to the Almightys hand in the smallest of things. For I, the humble observer, have recorded the moment the heavens whispered through the lens, and now, in this image, the world is still, and I am the only witness.

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