Wine and Gun

"It's not a good metaphor," Albarino said in a low voice.

"Yes, but of course I use metaphors to speak to people, you know." Shana's voice contained a lot of ridicule, as always, and a bit of arrogance that was unique to her - of course, if this is called someone else's Listening, it is too arrogant.

Albarino responded with a nervous smile at the little joke, while his mother stared at him, her eyes a beautiful mint green. She deftly tilted her head to one side, a movement reminiscent of a swan.

"I love you, child," she said softly.

Then she opened her arms in the morning light, painted by the backlight and the morning sun into a metaphorical silhouette: it looked almost like a slender cross; the wind brought them the vapor and the bitter earth of the morning shore, There were a couple of bird calls in the fog.

—Then her body fell.

After a long time, the embroidery thread came to the surface along with the foam.

What was that fire that occasionally burned in his heart? What is that unceasingly flowing fountain of sin against his will? He blames his body, but sin flows from his heart. There is a part of his spirit, soft as a snake, rolled up in a ball, and hidden with his conscience under the cloak of fraternity—what is this? Is it the fault of childishness or the frivolous habits of youth, who have placed themselves under the mercy of God, thinking that by doing so they have been exalted above all men?

On Saturday afternoon, near dusk, Albarino brought many flowers back to the hut, as well as some silk.

Many, many flowers: masses of reddish wood hibiscus and tulips, caffeinated in green floral mud made of phenolic foam; some plants that Herstal identified as red poppies; fragile pale blue hydrangeas, Carefully wrapped in paper; bunches of blue barracuda, almost as numerous as hydrangeas; and another pale blue plant of the Iridaceae family, which Albarino said was actually crocus— —It can’t be blamed on Herstal for not knowing, the best thing he knows about the plants is that he ate them when they were used as spices.

The flowers are all light blue and reddish, only the poppies are slightly darker, and the color matching is generally quite brisk. The blue color of the satin that Albarino brought back was similar to the color of those hydrangea. Herstal went through the draft in Albarino's book in his mind, and probably understood what he wanted.

Albarino clearly knew that he understood, so he asked directly, "How?"

There are dark circles under his eyes - people who stay up late are of course like this, although I don't know if he has a rest during the day on Friday, but from the time Herstal got off work at night until now, he can be almost twenty-four hours. Didn't fall asleep for a second. But the bluish skin and the bloodshot eyes clearly didn't make Herstal have mercy on him.

"Did you choose these colors of flowers?" Herstal asked. "What a frivolous color scheme."

"Ah, yes, yes, of course the ruthless dismemberment serial killer would say that." Albarino staggered the last foam box of flowers on the ground and straightened up, "I really don't know. Arrange a big, bloody, living human being like the kind of person in Michelangelo's Creation of Adam."

——Of course, first of all, if a Sunday gardener wants to make a theme of "Creation of Adam", he will probably clean up the blood stains first. This is the difference between the two of them.

"Artemisia is a Baroque artist, and her work doesn't have this sweet slenderness," Herstal insists, as if the flowers offend him.

"You're not happy with the fact that gardeners put flowers on corpses. I'm so sorry, but the serial killer's favorite artists are Boucher and Fragonard." Albarino tutted a sound.

He ended up standing in the middle of the room—where the two corpses were basically laid out, the bones and limbs fastened with metal, in the shape Albarino wanted them to be in. Of course, some of these parts can still be disassembled, otherwise there is no SUV trunk that can fit this volume of things.

Albarino looked at the two corpses with his eyes completely absorbed. Anthony Sharp's body was nothing but the bones and the skinned limbs, not to mention the fact that Billy's corpse stains and the dirty green blood vessels formed in the decay process were a little annoying, and in the end he had to think about it. Do whatever you can to cover these things up with the materials you have on hand.

Herstal also apparently realized that standing in front of the two corpses and talking to him about artistic style was not only pointless, but also had a taste of black humor. He gave up and asked instead, "Where did you get these flowers?"

Albarino must not have bought flowers for normal reasons. If he bought flowers in large quantities for no reason, and the cycle was the same as that of Sunday gardeners, he would have been caught by Hardy long ago.

"There is a studio in name - for ceramic, metal and glassware, vases and decorative plates, and they frequently buy flowers from wholesalers," Albarino whispered, not looking from the corpses. Turn to the top, "Post a promotional image for some vases to post on their website, to decorate their brick-and-mortar store merchandise, or to send to various design competitions. Flower wholesalers will show these flowers when they file their taxes. It was purchased by the studio, not personally. Of course, I can send you the URL of the studio’s official website if you want.”

Search the official address of [Reading Assistant]

: www.kanshuzhushou.com Millions of popular books are free to read for life without ads!