Lost Sister

The desert sun bled sepia over Route 66. Sister Antonia, if she still was, stood stranded, not running, just… called. She’d traded convent whispers for Harley engines, rosary beads clinking against a contraband lighter. Prayer and rebellion, side by side. An engine rumbled in the distance. Salvation? Temptation? Maybe both. Smirking, she embraced the blur. This was her pilgrimage, nowhere bound, searching for herself along the way.

Photographed, not generated. Salton Sea, 1 May 2016.

Own the memory: a signed limited edition of 50, pigment on aluminum, in three sizes.