The Saturn Rings
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Julius Marsh, a 17-year old Irish immigrant, he didn't really belong in America. He only looked like a handful of his classmates. He didn't talk like them, he didn't sound like them, he didn't do anything like them. Julius hadn't found any meaning unlike his parents, his father was a car shop owner. His mother was a four-star chef at a popular restaurant. They had their future and life planned out while Julius was some tall, lanky, pale, ginger kid who had a C- in Geometry.
He didn't really like anything. Besides art, he liked that. That was it. Nothing else peaked his interest besides the art museum on Houser Street.
The art museum on Houser Street was a hide away from Julius' troubles. It let him relax, browse, and think. He had read and memorized almost half of every description of each sculpture, painting, and piece he saw. Art felt like his escape until, a new piece entered the museum. A copy of a painting.
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