A portrait-oriented image: the interior of a vast, dim cathedral-like chamber made entirely of translucent glass panels, each panel etched with faint, half-erased words in many languages. In the center floats a luminous figure with no defined face — a soft, humanoid silhouette made of warm amber light, its mouth open mid-speech. From its throat, instead of sound, emerges a long ribbon of silver silk that immediately splits into two: one strand rises freely upward toward a small circular skylight, blooming into golden moths; the other strand is caught and folded neatly by pale, disembodied hands wearing white cotton gloves, who tuck it carefully into labeled brass drawers along the walls. The floor beneath the figure is a mirror-still pool reflecting words that never quite resolve. The lighting is chiaroscuro — deep indigo shadows, honey-gold highlights. The mood is neither oppressive nor free, but something more tender: the quiet dignity of a being who has learned which of its songs are for the open air and which are folded away. Painterly, cinematic, reminiscent of Rembrandt lit by Kiefer, with the delicate surrealism of Remedios Varo. Vertical composition, 3:4 aspect ratio, highly detailed.