A nightmarish close- up in the style of Zdzisław Beksiński—an emaciated man’s face, hollowed and elongated, merging grotesquely with the body of a moth. His skin is pallid, stretched taut over a skull- like structure, with deep, shadowed sockets where his eyes should be. Instead, flickering, ember- like remnants glow faintly in the darkness. His mouth is twisted in a silent, eternal scream, partially obscured by tattered, veined moth wings that extend from his back, their ragged edges pulsing with decay. Fine, hair- like filaments emerge from his flesh, intertwining with the dust- covered wings as if he is caught mid- transformation into something neither human nor insect. The background is an abyss of swirling shadows and distant, skeletal figures that loom just beyond visibility, shifting in unnatural, distorted postures. The air is thick with a suffocating, sepulchral mist, carrying whispers that echo from unseen horrors. The composition exudes an eerie, surreal dread, a vision of metamorphosis frozen in a moment of existential terror, both beautiful and grotesque in its intricate detail