This is the suburban front porch at 9pm on October 31st — a carved pumpkin grinning orange against a bruise-purple sky, bat silhouettes strung across the moon, candy corn in a bowl by the door. Everything is lit from within, high-contrast and glowing, like the whole page is a lantern.

It leans into the friendly-spooky American vernacular: die-cut cardboard cats, honeycomb tissue centerpieces, the flicker of a tealight behind cut-out eyes. Deep violet grounds carry hot pumpkin, poison green and candy-corn yellow, all outlined in ink-black silhouette so the page reads like a paper cut-out diorama backlit by a harvest moon.