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Inside a cathedral carved from whale bones and black salt, a choir of skeletons sings into jars filled with trapped screams. The altar bleeds honey and ink, where a crowned goat with too many eyes lies still, breathing. Jesus sits at the edge of the altar, barefoot, exhausted, his robes soaked in oil and shadow. He does not speak—only watches—as the faithful pierce their own ears with thorns to hear Him better. The stained glass above melts slowly, reshaping into a thousand versions of Him—each more monstrous than the last. mystyle: Sacred grotesque. Fossilized faith. Divine exhaustion. Self-inflicted belief systems. Hallucinatory worship.
In a haunting cathedral of whale bones, skeletons sing into jars of screams. A crowned goat lies still as Jesus watches the faithful inflict pain to hear Him better, while melting stained glass distorts His image.
