White Noise

The guardian at the gate has turned inward, and the dogs of hell have come to wake him. Yet, there is no fear in his posture, only a weary acceptance. The composition suggests a moment where the dreamer has become lucid, he knows the beasts are illusions cast by the shadows of the pillars. He sits with hands resting gently, almost prayer-like, offering a silent benediction to his own nightmares, understanding that if he remains calm, the teeth will never be more than smoke.