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My wanderings lead me to a building of artist studios.

The indent on the floor by the front door, normally reserved for a floor mat of some form, has been filled with coins of low monetary value. To step on it, or to step over it..

The spiral staircase inside has been painted. Decorated erratically. Strips of fabic hang down the center opening.

Every artist showing their work is distinctively different from one another. No stagnation in multiple people pushing a single style. I wish I could have had some more time to look at everything.
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