Sartorialist Pick of The Day

The White Balance. The Sartorialist

Where is the storm, the oblique anonymity provided by your scaled garments, but identity revealed, as your gaze haunts me during my residency behind the lens. Those restless arms, positioned as assault rifles of talent, attitude or pain. One shift, produces an illusion of imbalance, but the certainty of your face reassures the measure of leveled solidarity you hold in both your heart and soul. The quiet storm, what should we paint. The quiet storm. Your canvas bears the silence of a thousand cries in the room of the deaf, but I still listen. The dramatic white, right?

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