A crooked, well-worn witch hat sits atop a loose nest of dry straw and twigs, balanced on a stack of three aged leather-bound books. Small pears, tiny gourds, spiky seed pods and a lidded tin gather quietly around the base, as if left behind after an autumn night.

The light is soft and low, glowing faintly on the hat's brim, the book edges and the amber fruit before falling away into deep, vignetted shadow. Behind it, a hazy, cracked backdrop of smoky umber, taupe and dusty gold gives the scene the patina of an old master canvas, loosely brushed and gently spooky.