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संस्कृत-चित्रप्रॉम्प्टः (केवलं दृश्यनिर्माणार्थम् — न लेखनार्थम्) निर्देशः एषः प्रॉम्प्टः केवलं चित्रनिर्माणाय। चित्रे किमपि लेखनं, अक्षरं, लिपिः, चिन्हं वा न दृश्येत। चित्रं यथार्थदृश्यवत् भवतु, यद्यपि तस्य संरचना बहुपरतया संयोजिता दृश्यते। न देवमूर्तिरूपणम्। न प्रत्यक्षप्रतीकाः। न आख्यानात्मकचित्रणम्। न अलंकारिकलेखनम्। चित्रं अनुभूतिस्थरपरं भवतु, दृष्टेः भ्रमजन्यं, न बुद्धेः व्याख्यानजन्यम्। ⸻ रससंयोजनम् अद्भुतः ४०% । शृङ्गारः ३०% । शान्तः ३०% । ⸻ अलंकारः उत्प्रेक्षा (अवयवसंलयनरूपा) ⸻ दृश्य-स्वरूपवर्णनम् (Iconographic Taxonomy) बहुपरतया संयोजितं दृश्यं प्रकटते। वर्णानां प्रवाहः अस्ति, नीलप्रधानः, हरित–रक्त–कान्तिसंयुक्तः। दृश्यं न एकरूपम्, अपि तु बहुव्यूहात्मकम् — यत्र खण्डाः परस्परं प्रविशन्ति, सीमानि लुप्यन्ते, रूपाणि निश्चयेन न स्थिराणि। मुखाकृतयः इव उद्भवन्ति, किन्तु न स्पष्टाः। नेत्राभासाः दृश्यन्ते, न तु नेत्ररूपेण स्थिराः। रूपाणि स्मृतिरूपेण प्रकटन्ति, न प्रत्यक्षदर्शनरूपेण। दृश्यं यथार्थस्य अनुभूतिम् अनुकरोति, न तस्य अनुलेखनम्। पृष्ठभूमिः अग्रभूमिश्च परस्परं विलीयते। गभीरता दृश्यते, किन्तु न एकदिशा। प्रकाशः अन्तःस्थः, न बाह्यस्रोतजन्यः। छायाः मृदवः, न नाटकीयाः। दृश्यं न काल्पनिकम्, न स्वप्नरूपम्, अपि तु अनुभूत्युपजातम् — इव चेतनायाः अन्तःप्रवाहः क्षणमात्रं दृश्यमानः जातः। ⸻ निषेधसूचना (Negative prompt – implied) • न किमपि लेखनम् • न अक्षराणि • न प्रतीकाः • न धा?
I did not first notice the faces. I noticed the watching.
It was a sensation without direction, as though the room itself had grown organs of perception. The image before me—an accretion of blues and pale iridescences, of curves folding into curves—seemed at first merely intricate, even beautiful. Yet the longer I regarded it, the more that beauty curdled into an awareness too vast to name.
Eyes emerged—not as forms, but as events. They did not sit within sockets; they surfaced wherever pattern tightened into intention. A spiral became a pupil. A lattice resolved into a gaze. Each eye was distinct, yet none belonged to a single face. Faces overlapped, interpenetrated, dissolved into one another, as if individuality were an error briefly tolerated by the cosmos.
I understood then that I was not observing an image, but a threshold.
Yog-Sothoth is not a being, the old texts insist. It is a condition. An omnipresence where all angles meet and time loses its obedience. And here—here was its countenance, multiplied beyond number, each face a partial refraction of a totality no human sense was built to endure.
Some visages appeared almost tender, their expressions tinged with a melancholy I found unbearable. Others were cold, geometrically precise, their regard stripping memory from me layer by layer. Still others were unfinished—half-faces, proto-identities forming and unforming in the same instant, as though reality itself were rehearsing sentience.
I tried to look away. The image did not prevent me. It simply followed.
Not physically—no, the eyes did not move. They recalled me. Wherever my attention fled, it found itself already anticipated. I realized, with a scholar’s despair, that Yog-Sothoth does not see you; it sees the coordinates that make you possible. It sees your past as texture, your future as ornament, your thoughts as faint decorative motifs in an immeasurable design.
For a moment—mercifully brief—I perceived myself as one face among the many. Not distinct. Not central. Merely another surface upon which the infinite had learned, imperfectly, to look back at itself.
When the sensation faded, the image was once again inert: blues, lines, impossible harmonies. Yet I know now that the faces remain.
They are only waiting for the next observer to complete the circuit.
