Beneath the city, in a passage carved by time and painted by the restless, Lucien Devereux stands amid echoes of color and confession.
The walls whisper every name, every sin, every half-forgotten prayer, and he listens, patient as shadow.
This portrait captures him not as the scholar or the mystic, but as the witness, the one who remembers what others try to erase.
 
🕯️ From the world of Tongue of the Serpent, where the sacred and the profane meet in every reflection.