The Art of the Argument
The Guggenheim was a spiral of white concrete and silence, the perfect arena for a war of attrition. Julian stood before a massive, monochromatic canvas—a single, jarring streak of yellow on a field of grey. "It's a derivative piece of garbage," a voice said behind him. "It's not minimalism; it's just laziness." Julian didn't need to turn around to know it was Clara. Her voice was a sharp,...
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