The grove is a stand of trees, rotting and covered in moss. Two trees, their trunks painted in many
colours, mark the entrance to the clearing in the middle of the grove. Shadows under the trees are dark and somehow fluid, and the dappled shifting sunlight gives the disturbing impression of being
underwater. There are hundreds of little clay statues, carvings and other trinkets hanging from the trees, all depicting the same bat-winged, tentaclefaced
entity. It’s bizarre and disturbing
