"post-apocalyptic high fashion" - Leonid Pesenti
A barren landscape engulfs what once was, the essence of human creation undone by its own blood-covered hands. Dust clouds bloated with death breathe over the remnants; It has killed what It made, greed led the way. Yet traces remain, traces of past beauties, of past civilizations where matter was chosen over soul. The cult of materialism will not disappear and the rotten core of the human soul will persevere in its wickedness... but aesthetics will find a way.
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