Marina - Gold Casting |top|

She found August’s journal on a workbench, under a coffee cup that had fossilized into a new kind of mineral. The pages were soft, the ink brown with age. “Each mold holds a story,” he had written. “The wax original is destroyed in the making. The caster kills the thing he loves, and from its ashes, a bronze self is born. This is not loss. This is alchemy.”

“The caster does not destroy. The caster delivers. This is not alchemy. This is love.” marina gold casting

Now the warehouse was hers.