Lynch's silhouette merged into the distorted light and shadow, as if stepping into the domain of another dimension.
Everything before his eyes had lost its normalcy. The ancient towering trees experienced the cycle of growth, flourishing, withering, and decaying at a speed visible to the naked eye. Some parts still bore tender green buds, while other branches had turned into charred bones.
The vines sometimes squirmed madly like giant pythons, sometimes solidified mid-air like dark green crystal sculptures. The grass on the ground flickered between verdant green and withered yellow, as if countless invisible hands were manipulating the hands of time.
The light here was torn apart into fragments, forming twisted light bands like visions seen through a broken prism.
