The Salon of the End
Paris in 1899 was a city of velvet and absinthe, a place where the aristocracy spent their afternoons debating the death of God and their evenings dancing on the edge of a volcano. Marcel was the center of this orbit. He was not a nobleman, but a "Philosopher of the Void," a man whose only asset was a voice that could make the end of the world sound like a seductive invitation. Marcel's salon...
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