Under the relentless desert sun, I shaped survival with bare hands and ancient wisdom. Gathering clay, sand, and straw, I molded a dome-shaped hut—thick-walled and sun-baked for insulation. It shields me from scorching days and freezing nights. No tools, no modern aid—just instinct and patience. The hut blends into the arid landscape, a silent guardian against wind and solitude. Each crack repaired, each layer strengthened, became a lesson in endurance. In this vast, merciless wilderness, the clay hut is more than shelter—it’s hope. It stands as proof that even in barren silence, life can persist, rooted in resilience and the will to survive.
