The Golden Mirror
The dust in the workshop does not settle; it hangs in the air like a suspended breath, a fine grey fog that coats the bristles of your brushes and the edges of your chisels. You are a man who deals in the preservation of surfaces, a restorer of gilded frames and cracked porcelain, and you have lived in this narrow, soot-stained house on the edge of the industrial quarter for forty years. The...
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