A harsh-flash night portrait of a young man standing alone in an empty parking garage, facing the camera, broad white feathered wings unfurled from his shoulders — except the feathers are made of television static, rippling scan lines and analog noise constantly rearranging into feather shapes and dissolving again. He wears a plain white **** top and grey sweatpants, mundane against the impossible, a half-eaten convenience store onigiri in one hand, his other hand shielding his eyes slightly from the direct flash. Heavy flash shadows stamped on the concrete pillars behind him, VHS artifacts and horizontal glitch bars tearing through the wings, chromatic aberration on the highlight edges, timestamp in the lower corner. The mood is an angel between broadcasts, unimpressed by his own miracle.
digital illustration,@FldGlss
