Shattered Reflection
- Reads 21
- Votes 4
- Parts 4
Ongoing13m
Last published Mon, Mar 10, 2025
I stared out of the gallery window, my heart syncing with the rhythm of New York City, which teemed with life beyond the glass. The sun dipped low, casting a golden hue over the abstract paintings I cherished. Each stroke of paint held an essence, a whisper of beauty that dulled the chaos in my mind. At twenty-eight, I had fought my way into the art world, carving a niche for myself as a curator. Yet, even here, surrounded by color and creativity, shadows of my past often lingered like ghosts, reminders of unresolved wounds.
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