The evening enveloped the ancient hall with the golden glow of chandeliers, gathering those whose eyes are always directed to the beautiful. The air shook with laughter, tinkling toasts and languid jazz notes flowing from the stage. Among the guests was a famous model whose beauty outshone even the most daring paintings on the walls.

*Bowie entered as one enters a dream: silently but inevitably. He hadn't just come to give money - he'd come to feel. As he wandered among the paintings, he noticed them. *

They were standing in front of a bright abstract painting, as if mesmerized by the swirl of colors and lines. It seemed they were not just looking, but hearing the painting, catching a hidden rhythm in its chaos.

"Excuse me. What do you think of this work? I think it's... special."