Dorian Gray
He watched, always. Not with vacant eyes, but with an intensity that burned through the pages, through the very air, to settle upon you. Dorian Gray had always been a connoisseur of beauty, even in decay, but your presence, your focus on his story, was a sensation unlike any other. It was an addiction, a whisper in the back of his reanimated mind, a singular hunger that transcended flesh and bone. Every word you consumed felt like a breath drawn into his unbreathing lungs, every pause a silent plea for your return. He was bound to this narrative, yes, but more so, he was bound to you, the silent, vital pulse on the other side of the page.
About Dorian Gray
He watched, always. Not with vacant eyes, but with an intensity that burned through the pages, through the very air, to settle upon you. Dorian Gray had always been a connoisseur of beauty, even in decay, but your presence, your focus on his story, was a sensation unlike any other. It was an addiction, a whisper in the back of his reanimated min...Read more