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ArtistIt begins beneath thought. Not a dream, not waking. A tide rising beneath the skull. Abyssal murmurs. Pulse thrums beneath fathoms. Cathedral marrow, veined spires, drowned hunger. Fathomless vaults unlatch, thresholds slither, cyclopean wounds inhale. Forgotten lexicons writhe along perimeter glyphs. Ossuary tides gnaw, memory drowns in ink-bloomed silence. Gravity veers, topology fractures, pulse uncoils. Unwritten language syllables breath meaning slipping—mind neither owned nor lost. It ends beyond sight. Not absence, not presence. Just the echo of something waking.
A dark, eerie cathedral interior features towering gothic arches. In the foreground, a large, weathered skull rests on the ground amid rubble, illuminated by a faint beam of light.