The little homunculus stands with a subservient posture, its face a blank mask. Its hands are clasped at the waist, and its shoulders are hunched forward. Its body, if it can be called such, is a smattering of fleshy organs held together by slender twine in the shape and size of a child’s doll. As it steps forward, your eyes are drawn to its feet, which are little more than toeless nubs.
