There is a woman sitting in the water with a statue behind her

A brunette woman in full SAD CLOWN makeup sits curled up on the flooded black marble floor, sobbing uncontrollably beneath a massive stone statue of a woman's head, its cold, sculpted face expressionless as twin fountains of water pour endlessly from its hollow, weeping eyes. The woman trembles beneath the statue, her knees pulled to her chest, her long, damp brunette hair sticking to her face, mascara and black clown paint streaking down her sculpted cheekbones, mixing with the pools of water gathering around her. Her overdrawn red lips quiver, the smeared lipstick forming a distorted, forced smile that doesn’t match the agony in her glossy, swollen hazel eyes, which stare forward in a detached, defeated haze. The statue towers above her, its regal, goddess-like features eerily lifelike, yet its stone eyes remain vacant, soulless, as endless streams of water pour from them like eternal tears, creating an almost holy yet haunting presence in the vast, dimly lit black marble penthouse. The water pools across the smooth, reflective floor, warping and distorting both the woman’s sobbing figure and the towering statue above her, making it appear as though her sorrow is being absorbed, magnified, trapped in an endless loop of grief and reflection. The room is lined with massive CRT televisions, each flickering with glitching, VHS-distorted footage of the woman herself, watching as she sobs and reapplies her smudged makeup, forever stuck in an infinite breakdown. The sound of cascading water from the statue mixes with the low hum of VHS static, a hypnotic blend of artificial and organic sorrow, creating an overwhelming, dreamlike presence in the space. Her hands press against her face as if trying to hold herself together, but her shoulders shake with the weight of the moment, the cold water pooling around her fingertips as she remains trapped beneath the stone effigy, mirroring her own suffering. The **s

A **brunette woman in full SAD CLOWN makeup sits curled up on the flooded black marble floor, sobbing uncontrollably beneath a massive stone statue of a woman's head**, its **cold, sculpted face expressionless as twin fountains of water pour endlessly from its hollow, weeping eyes**. The **woman trembles beneath the statue, her knees pulled to her chest, her long, damp brunette hair sticking to her face, mascara and black clown paint streaking down her sculpted cheekbones**, mixing with the **pools of water gathering around her**. Her **overdrawn red lips quiver, the smeared lipstick forming a distorted, forced smile that doesn’t match the agony in her glossy, swollen hazel eyes**, which stare forward in a **detached, defeated haze**. The **statue towers above her, its regal, goddess-like features eerily lifelike**, yet its **stone eyes remain vacant, soulless, as endless streams of water pour from them like eternal tears**, creating an almost **holy yet haunting presence in the vast, dimly lit black marble penthouse**. The **water pools across the smooth, reflective floor, warping and distorting both the woman’s sobbing figure and the towering statue above her**, making it appear as though **her sorrow is being absorbed, magnified, trapped in an endless loop of grief and reflection**. The **room is lined with massive CRT televisions, each flickering with glitching, VHS-distorted footage of the woman herself, watching as she sobs and reapplies her smudged makeup, forever stuck in an infinite breakdown**. The **sound of cascading water from the statue mixes with the low hum of VHS static, a hypnotic blend of artificial and organic sorrow, creating an overwhelming, dreamlike presence in the space**. Her **hands press against her face as if trying to hold herself together, but her shoulders shake with the weight of the moment**, the **cold water pooling around her fingertips as she remains trapped beneath the stone effigy, mirroring her own suffering**. The **s

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