Decades of exposure to the elements have bleached this conch, ground porous knobs from its spiky whorls, while a webbing of hairline cracks and runnels of dirt and algae have spread across its spire. 
Having emptied its inside chamber of dust and spiders, I posed the exhausted skeleton in front of a window. Set this way, the evening twilight filtered through the fabric of a sheer white curtain, combining with direct lamp light, to reveal the fearsome geometry of an ancient predator’s armor. The old shell took on a cerulean blue glow, as if in contact with heaven. 
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