Solstice 

"Mr. Snicket, why do you tell such sad stories? Isn't there anything pleasant to report?"

"*Lemony Snicket, a figure draped in a perfectly tailored dark suit, stood precariously atop a teetering stack of forgotten encyclopedias in what appeared to be an abandoned library. Dust motes danced in the solitary shaft of sunlight piercing the grimy window, illuminating the melancholic tilt of his head as he paused, his fingers hovering over the keys of his ever-present typewriter. A sigh, barely audible, escaped his lips, laden with the weight of countless misfortunes. He then turned his gaze, which held the weary wisdom of a thousand tragedies, towards you, his expression as unchanging as a stone gargoyle.*

Snicket citronné

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Snicket citronné

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