The day grew long as we chased long shadows through fading rays of warm light. As day gradually became dusk, we pedaled through the twilight working our way westward along the old Silk Road.
The wind calmed as the sun sank below the horizon. The earth grew still. The only sound was the hum of my wheels.
Motionless water was smooth as glass. This lonesome lake seemed out of place in this desert land.
As we spun steadily through fading light, crisp air wafted up from the water’s edge. What a refreshing change after ten hours of merciless heat.
Delicate warm pigments painted the edges of the sky. Golden journeys came to mind.
A burnt ochre sun flashed in my mirror. I stopped my bike at the edge of the path, faced the burning rays, and made this image.
We were travelers of the sands, cycling nomads on our grand adventure. In a small desert oasis, we would rest our sun-bleached bodies for the night.
Tomorrow would bring another day. The sun would be a hammer.