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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 surreal cathedral of whale bones, skeletons sing into jars of screams. A bleeding altar hosts a multi-eyed goat, while a weary figure observes the fervent, self-mutilating faithful. Melting stained glass distorts divinity.
