Dust clings to every surface, settling thick across the enamel of the hand basin and the grime-darkened bathtub.

Leaves gather beneath the window, carried in over time and left to decay undisturbed. Ivy has pushed its way through the frame, its vines thick and sinewy, reaching down the tiled walls as if the bathroom at the Terminus Hotel offered better shelter than the world outside. The taps remain intact, but the water is long gone.

What flourished here last wasn’t human.

Printed with richly pigmented inks on archival cotton rag paper, this artwork brings quiet overgrowth and architectural stillness into focus with museum-grade precision.