analogstyle,A stark, , its edges eaten away by time and decay, reveals a hauntingly beautiful woman standing on the crumbling platform of an abandoned train station. The air hangs heavy with the scent of coal smoke and the silence of forgotten whispers. Her long, dark hair, a tangled mane framing a face of melancholic beauty, whips around her in a spectral wind. Her gown, once a luxurious velvet, is now a tattered shroud, clinging to her slender form like a shroud. The station around her is a decaying skeletal structure, its iron bones rusting under a sky choked with smog. A lone, ghostly train engine, its metal skin corroded and its windows like empty eyes, sits silently on the tracks, its steam a phantom breath against the encroaching darkness. The tracks, vanishing into the impenetrable fog, lead not to a destination, but to oblivion.