‘Madness doesn’t shout. It waits until you’re exhausted before it strokes your hair.’🫣
‘Madness doesn’t shout. It waits until you’re exhausted before it strokes your hair.’🫣
Prompt
Hunched figure at a kitchen table in near-darkness, face obscured, trembling hands cradling a cold teacup. Single sickly amber overhead light casts an elongated shadow across the wall—the shadow's fingers stretch toward the neck, writhing independently of the body at the edges, animated as if alive. Shot on desaturated 1970s Kodachrome, heavy grain, underexposed, sickly browns and yellows.
