The Opium of the Earth
The city of Lutetia was a dream of ivory and emerald. There was no winter, no storm, only a permanent, golden afternoon. The air was thick with the scent of crushed lilies, and the architecture seemed to grow organically from the earth, curving in sensual, impossible arcs. Julian, a poet who had long since stopped writing, wandered the streets in a state of perpetual, shimmering lethargy. He...
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