The Symbiotic Ritual
Julian's gallery was a temple of the void. He painted in shades of white that were so pure they felt aggressive, and blacks that seemed to swallow the light of the room. He was the darling of the New York art scene, but he was a man who had forgotten how to breathe without a script. He found the Muse in a flooded basement of an abandoned opera house. It was a creature of shifting geometry, a...
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