An eyeless troubadour plucks a lute strung with entrails beneath a tree that bears screaming fruit. His skin is tattooed with music notes that bleed when played. A chorus of skeletal birds sing in dissonant harmony from thorny branches. The air ripples with song-magic—each note warping reality slightly, distorting the path behind the minstrel. His backpack is a coffin with feet, humming softly to itself. Style: acid-folk tapestry realism with collage-cut shadows. Color palette: spoiled gold, sickly indigo, and hallucinogenic chartreuse. Lines buzz like fever dreams. Texture: embroidered madness. Mood: cursed nostalgia. Symbolism: music as distortion, song as spell, blindness as a gift to see truth.
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