Francis Jammes

Children gather in hushed wonder, their faces lit by an unseen presence. The divine lingers among them, soft as a whisper, woven into their innocence. Shadows and light dance across the scene, hinting at something sacred just beyond sight. A quiet moment, heavy with reverence.

Children gather in hushed wonder, their small hands reaching toward something unseen. Light spills across their faces, soft as a whisper. The divine lingers just beyond the frame, close enough to touch.

A child’s hand reaches toward the divine, bathed in soft light. The sacred meets innocence—no barriers, only quiet wonder. Shadows cradle the moment like a whispered prayer.

A child’s hand reaches toward the divine, bathed in soft light. The air hums with quiet reverence, innocence brushing against something sacred. Shadows cradle the moment—simple, yet heavy with unspoken grace.

A child’s outstretched hand meets the divine—soft light spills over innocence, blurring the line between earthly play and sacred encounter. The scene hums with quiet wonder, as if heaven leans down to whisper.

Children gather in hushed wonder, their small hands reaching toward something unseen. Light spills softly around them, hinting at a presence both tender and vast. The ordinary room feels charged—not with fear, but quiet awe. Their faces tilt upward, as if listening to a voice only they can hear.