One hand reaching upward. Face lifted. Dissolving into red chaos and white noise not from giving up, but from trying too hard for too long. The roses at his feet keep blooming anyway, indifferent to his desperation. This is the portrait of someone who kept reaching toward something that never reached back. Who came undone quietly, in rooms where nobody was watching. The static did not stop him. He kept sending the signal anyway. If you have ever felt like your faith was tearing you apart this piece already knows your name.