DarkManul
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A woman in her late forties, embodying the worn elegance of Balzac's era, seated on a wrought-iron bench beneath the dappled shade of an ancient oak tree in a bustling Parisian park. She wears a faded but meticulously kept burgundy day dress with a high collar and lace cuffs, her hands cradling a leather-bound journal open to verses inked in precise, looping script. Sunlight filters through the canopy, illuminating dust motes and the faint lines of concentration on her face as she reads aloud to an unseen audience, while behind her, blurred figures in 1830s attire—top hats, bonnets, and tailored coats—stroll along gravel paths flanked by manicured flowerbeds and distant, hazy city spires, NEGATIVE_HANDS
