Every surface of the room is jam-packed with rubber ducks in every imaginable style and size. Tiny keychain ducks, medium-sized bath toys, and massive, comically oversized ducks tower from the floor. Ducks with pirate hats, superhero capes, sunglasses, and even a few with wings spread, fill the shelves, alongside ducks of neon pink, pale blue, and classic yellow. The walls are lined with glossy, matte, translucent, and metallic-finish ducks. In the middle of it all sits the collector, an eccentric figure hunched over, meticulously rearranging his newest additions. His eyes dart from one duck to the next, his movements sharp as he attempts to perfect the placement of his collection. The sheer number of ducks gives the room a suffocating feel, their round, glossy eyes staring from every direction, creating a quirky yet overwhelming atmosphere that mirrors the intensity of the collector's obsession.
7177
FLUX
A liminal indoor water park, flooded and silent. Pastel water slides—off-white, teal, and pink—hang overhead, gushing water into a shallow pool covering the glossy white tile floor. Mist drifts through the humid air. Everything is damp and still. Floating slowly away from the camera is a giant yellow duck statue, partially submerged. Its head is turned slightly to the side, revealing a huge, exaggerated toothy grin stretched across its plastic face. Its eyes are empty—glossy and hollow, with no pupils or detail. The duck drifts through the water quietly, trailing small ripples behind it. The EXIT sign above a distant doorway glows red through the fog. The mood is surreal, eerie, and uncanny—like a forgotten memory rotting in silence.
179
Luma
Every surface of the room is jam-packed with rubber ducks in every imaginable style and size. Tiny keychain ducks, medium-sized bath toys, and massive, comically oversized ducks tower from the floor. Ducks with pirate hats, superhero capes, sunglasses, and even a few with wings spread, fill the shelves, alongside ducks of neon pink, pale blue, and classic yellow. The walls are lined with glossy, matte, translucent, and metallic-finish ducks. In the middle of it all sits the collector, an eccentric figure hunched over, meticulously rearranging his newest additions. His eyes dart from one duck to the next, his movements sharp as he attempts to perfect the placement of his collection. The sheer number of ducks gives the room a suffocating feel, their round, glossy eyes staring from every direction, creating a quirky yet overwhelming atmosphere that mirrors the intensity of the collector's obsession.
7177
FLUX
A liminal indoor water park, flooded and silent. Pastel water slides—off-white, teal, and pink—hang overhead, gushing water into a shallow pool covering the glossy white tile floor. Mist drifts through the humid air. Everything is damp and still. Floating slowly away from the camera is a giant yellow duck statue, partially submerged. Its head is turned slightly to the side, revealing a huge, exaggerated toothy grin stretched across its plastic face. Its eyes are empty—glossy and hollow, with no pupils or detail. The duck drifts through the water quietly, trailing small ripples behind it. The EXIT sign above a distant doorway glows red through the fog. The mood is surreal, eerie, and uncanny—like a forgotten memory rotting in silence.
179
Luma
Every surface of the room is jam-packed with rubber ducks in every imaginable style and size. Tiny keychain ducks, medium-sized bath toys, and massive, comically oversized ducks tower from the floor. Ducks with pirate hats, superhero capes, sunglasses, and even a few with wings spread, fill the shelves, alongside ducks of neon pink, pale blue, and classic yellow. The walls are lined with glossy, matte, translucent, and metallic-finish ducks. In the middle of it all sits the collector, an eccentric figure hunched over, meticulously rearranging his newest additions. His eyes dart from one duck to the next, his movements sharp as he attempts to perfect the placement of his collection. The sheer number of ducks gives the room a suffocating feel, their round, glossy eyes staring from every direction, creating a quirky yet overwhelming atmosphere that mirrors the intensity of the collector's obsession.
7177
FLUX
A liminal indoor water park, flooded and silent. Pastel water slides—off-white, teal, and pink—hang overhead, gushing water into a shallow pool covering the glossy white tile floor. Mist drifts through the humid air. Everything is damp and still. Floating slowly away from the camera is a giant yellow duck statue, partially submerged. Its head is turned slightly to the side, revealing a huge, exaggerated toothy grin stretched across its plastic face. Its eyes are empty—glossy and hollow, with no pupils or detail. The duck drifts through the water quietly, trailing small ripples behind it. The EXIT sign above a distant doorway glows red through the fog. The mood is surreal, eerie, and uncanny—like a forgotten memory rotting in silence.
179
Luma
Every surface of the room is jam-packed with rubber ducks in every imaginable style and size. Tiny keychain ducks, medium-sized bath toys, and massive, comically oversized ducks tower from the floor. Ducks with pirate hats, superhero capes, sunglasses, and even a few with wings spread, fill the shelves, alongside ducks of neon pink, pale blue, and classic yellow. The walls are lined with glossy, matte, translucent, and metallic-finish ducks. In the middle of it all sits the collector, an eccentric figure hunched over, meticulously rearranging his newest additions. His eyes dart from one duck to the next, his movements sharp as he attempts to perfect the placement of his collection. The sheer number of ducks gives the room a suffocating feel, their round, glossy eyes staring from every direction, creating a quirky yet overwhelming atmosphere that mirrors the intensity of the collector's obsession.
7177
FLUX
A liminal indoor water park, flooded and silent. Pastel water slides—off-white, teal, and pink—hang overhead, gushing water into a shallow pool covering the glossy white tile floor. Mist drifts through the humid air. Everything is damp and still. Floating slowly away from the camera is a giant yellow duck statue, partially submerged. Its head is turned slightly to the side, revealing a huge, exaggerated toothy grin stretched across its plastic face. Its eyes are empty—glossy and hollow, with no pupils or detail. The duck drifts through the water quietly, trailing small ripples behind it. The EXIT sign above a distant doorway glows red through the fog. The mood is surreal, eerie, and uncanny—like a forgotten memory rotting in silence.
179
Luma
A liminal indoor water park, flooded and silent. Pastel water slides—off-white, teal, and pink—hang overhead, gushing water into a shallow pool covering the glossy white tile floor. Mist drifts through the humid air. Everything is damp and still. Floating slowly away from the camera is a giant yellow duck statue, partially submerged. Its head is turned slightly to the side, revealing a huge, exaggerated toothy grin stretched across its plastic face. Its eyes are empty—glossy and hollow, with no pupils or detail. The duck drifts through the water quietly, trailing small ripples behind it. The EXIT sign above a distant doorway glows red through the fog. The mood is surreal, eerie, and uncanny—like a forgotten memory rotting in silence.
179
Luma
Every surface of the room is jam-packed with rubber ducks in every imaginable style and size. Tiny keychain ducks, medium-sized bath toys, and massive, comically oversized ducks tower from the floor. Ducks with pirate hats, superhero capes, sunglasses, and even a few with wings spread, fill the shelves, alongside ducks of neon pink, pale blue, and classic yellow. The walls are lined with glossy, matte, translucent, and metallic-finish ducks. In the middle of it all sits the collector, an eccentric figure hunched over, meticulously rearranging his newest additions. His eyes dart from one duck to the next, his movements sharp as he attempts to perfect the placement of his collection. The sheer number of ducks gives the room a suffocating feel, their round, glossy eyes staring from every direction, creating a quirky yet overwhelming atmosphere that mirrors the intensity of the collector's obsession.
7177
FLUX
Every surface of the room is jam-packed with rubber ducks in every imaginable style and size. Tiny keychain ducks, medium-sized bath toys, and massive, comically oversized ducks tower from the floor. Ducks with pirate hats, superhero capes, sunglasses, and even a few with wings spread, fill the shelves, alongside ducks of neon pink, pale blue, and classic yellow. The walls are lined with glossy, matte, translucent, and metallic-finish ducks. In the middle of it all sits the collector, an eccentric figure hunched over, meticulously rearranging his newest additions. His eyes dart from one duck to the next, his movements sharp as he attempts to perfect the placement of his collection. The sheer number of ducks gives the room a suffocating feel, their round, glossy eyes staring from every direction, creating a quirky yet overwhelming atmosphere that mirrors the intensity of the collector's obsession.
7177
FLUX
A liminal indoor water park, flooded and silent. Pastel water slides—off-white, teal, and pink—hang overhead, gushing water into a shallow pool covering the glossy white tile floor. Mist drifts through the humid air. Everything is damp and still. Floating slowly away from the camera is a giant yellow duck statue, partially submerged. Its head is turned slightly to the side, revealing a huge, exaggerated toothy grin stretched across its plastic face. Its eyes are empty—glossy and hollow, with no pupils or detail. The duck drifts through the water quietly, trailing small ripples behind it. The EXIT sign above a distant doorway glows red through the fog. The mood is surreal, eerie, and uncanny—like a forgotten memory rotting in silence.
179
Luma