The Aesthetes' Return
The Aesthetes' Return I. Julian Ashworth dreamed of color dying. It was not a metaphor. In the dream, he stood in a gallery—white walls, parquet floor, gaslight dimmed to amber—and before him hung a painting he recognized as his own. A landscape of the Sussex downs, painted that summer, bright with green and gold and the blue of a sky he had studied for weeks to get right. But in the dream, the...
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