The Alabaster Symphony
Paris in the fin de siècle was a city of velvet and decay, where the air tasted of absinthe and old perfume. In a crumbling apartment in Montmartre, surrounded by half-finished canvases and piles of sketchbooks, lived Julian. He was a painter who had once been the darling of the salons, but he had fallen into a deep, creative winter. He was a man who chased the "Absolute Color," a shade of red...
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