The Canvas of Fever
In the heart of New York's art district, the Studio of Glass was a place of sterile whites and blinding lights. Iris painted in a fever. Her canvases were not landscapes or portraits; they were maps of anxiety, swirls of crimson and void-black that seemed to vibrate with a hidden frequency. Julian was a sculptor of marble, a man of precision and cold lines. He was the perfect product of his...
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