On floating islands of giant prickly pear cacti, high above a glowing desert, a tea ceremony is underway. A wise, elderly cactus monk, his body covered in delicate, blooming thorns, carefully pours steaming nectar from a ceramic teapot shaped like a desert flower. The tea itself is a glowing golden liquid, swirling with tiny, iridescent particles. Across from him, a group of tiny, round cactus creatures—resembling living teacups—watch in silent reverence. The table is made of woven cactus fibers, adorned with delicate plates crafted from translucent succulent leaves. The floating islands drift gently on the warm desert winds, their roots trailing below like the tentacles of giant jellyfish. The sky is a deep indigo, dotted with floating, petal- like embers from the distant burning dunes. A sense of tranquility and magic fills the air, as if time itself has slowed to watch the ritual unfold
easynegative, No futuristic or cybernetic elements, no horror or grotesque details, no dull or lifeless environments, no heavy mechanical structures.
