Ragged, unclear, and altogether hurriedly developed, this photograph appears to depict the gloomy interior of what once was a living room, with window blinds thickly drawn and boards nailing down any cracks through which external observation could be possible.
The entire space looks alive: some manner of spongy vegetation coats its surfaces and thick tendrils and quivering mounds of mold subsume most of the furniture.
Reclined within the misshapen gray lump that might have been a sofa, a pale-skinned woman lounges, her spine arched, head thrown back, and a look of rapturous ecstasy visible on the parts of her face not caked by the fungus that's extending in wet stalks from her open mouth.
Smiling contentedly, with dainty tendrils spreading across her face, entwining in her hair, and burrowing into the ruptured sockets where eyes used to reside, the woman is embracing a bulging cocoon of gray resting in her lap, small bits of fur peeking through cracks in the fungal shell.
In bold and crude calligraphy, text has been scrawled on the back of the image.

"Do not be afraid, for our beauty is all-encompassing and rests beyond your sight."

"Do not be afraid, for we speak the word of blissful hegemony."

"Do not be afraid, for this is our mission, and you will be a part of it."