Beneath the ancient oaks of City Park, Lucien stands at the edge of something unseen, where sunlight fractures into color and memory bends into magic.
 
He’s a man bound to both logic and longing, drawn to the thin places where the living and the spectral meet.
 
This portrait captures him in that rare in-between moment, when the veil seems to breathe and even the air feels enchanted.
 
🕯️ From the world of Tongue of the Serpent, where every tree remembers the names of the dead, and a few still whisper them back.