BATHROOM

Bathe in sanctuaries where the air is damp with the breath of forgotten springs, and claw-footed tubs gleam like sarcophagi under flickering gaslight. The tiles, cracked and moss-stained, tell tales of rituals performed in steam and shadow, while tarnished mirrors fog with spectral breaths, revealing runes etched by unseen hands. Every drip from the rusted faucet echoes like a heartbeat, a reminder of the lives that once cleansed their sins in these waters, now forever bound to the porcelain’s chill embrace.