The Golden Master
Did you know that gold is not a color, but a debt? I asked the Director this as he stood by the window, the light from the unlit lamps making the dust motes hang in the air like suspended judgments, and he only smiled, a thin, papery thing that did not reach his eyes, which were fixed on the Golden Master in its glass case, that terrible, breathing orchid that seemed to drink the very air from...
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