The gas lamp above them hissed with a low, constant sigh, a lonely yellow

The light in the long gallery was the color of old honey, thick and

The brushstrokes of the world were thick, layered, applied with the desperate urgency of

The ballroom was a vault of amber light. Two dozen chandeliers hung from the

The morning light in the studio was an act of slow, patient mercy. It

Form

The door was not supposed to be unlocked. I had come to the warehouse