The Prince and His Pert Little Palace
A flickering neon sign reading “A-R-T” on a dark Culver City street was the only indication that Arcturus Gallery was open. Steep concrete steps led to a basement-level space. He nearly slipped on a rain-slicked slab—it never rains in LA—before landing in a small puddle in front of a smudged glass door.
Cursing as damp seeped through thin socks, he pushed through the portal. Bells jangled announcing his entry into the art gallery, as though it was a convenience store.
Cursing as damp seeped through thin socks, he pushed through the portal. Bells jangled announcing his entry into the art gallery, as though it was a convenience store.