The Faded Portrait
Act I "You cannot keep it here, Tigran. The order is absolute." Director Karkara’s voice was not loud, but it carried the weight of the iron shutters that had been welded over the museum’s main entrance three days prior, sealing the institution into a fortress of dust and silence. Tigran Gelashvili, his hands stained with the yellowed grime of varnish and old oil, did not look up from the...
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