Welcome to the Dungon

A lone woman stands poised in the mouth of a massive, decaying concrete pipe, the remnants of a forgotten industrial past. Dressed in a surreal hybrid of bridal lace and punk defiance, her veil clings to the damp air as she stares into the camera—half saint, half specter. Water trickles beneath her boots, echoing through the tunnel like a requiem. The scene feels like a dream derailed: haunting, theatrical, and unapologetically raw. A portrait of contrasts—beauty against ruin, innocence against corrosion—captured in stark black and white.