Wine and Gun

We might as well see the parade from the point of view of ordinary tourists, which will make it more fun - tourists are all fully armed, wrapped in thick coats and scarves, parents lead or hold their own Children, many people wear Christmas hats decorated with small lights or headdresses with two reindeer antlers standing up, which is one of the souvenirs bought from hawkers.

On the side of Santa's float stood a young woman in her twenties, who looked like a tourist from out of town—even an exotic one—because real locals don't wear silly antlers on their heads. There are also cheap plastic lights flickering on either side of the headgear. She wrapped half of her face tightly with a scarf, and her exposed nose was red with cold.

At this moment, she was looking at the man who was slightly older than her, who was concentratingly taking pictures of the float with a DSLR camera. The faces of the two of them are very similar, and they are obviously related by blood. The female tourist buried half of her face in the scarf, shivering from the cold, and asked in a vague voice, "Francis, when can we go back to the hotel?"

She asked this in German, and apparently they were the typical foreign tourists with a lot of money and stupid people, otherwise there was no way to explain why they would travel all the way from Europe to spend Christmas in a place like this. The man known as "Francis" put down the camera, moved his fingers slightly numb from the cold, and replied, "Charlotte, isn't it all set? We have to go all the way to the end of the parade."

Charlotte said in a long voice, "I didn't find the Christmas parade interesting because I'm actually twenty-eight not eight-"

"This is a material, a material." Francis shook his head and replied with a smile, "Do you remember the religious paintings I created from the year before? I promised to put them in next year's Lucinda chūn season. It was exhibited at the exhibition, but I always felt that there was something missing in these paintings, and I needed to make a little change before the exhibition started... Now it will be too late if I don't come out to collect the scenery."

So the truth came out: the two tourists were a painter and his sister, and the painter was apparently now cramming like a night drive before an exam. Charlotte rolled her eyes and pointedly pointed out: "I can still understand when you went to Jerusalem and the Vatican to gather experience. Is the United States a choice that a normal artist would make? Before you came, I didn't hear much about Victoria. The city of Strand."

"What can I do," her brother shrugged, "Helaire heard that I was going out for Christmas, and he started to ramble with me 'Why don't you go to Westland, Gabriel just came from Weissland? Tran came back and she told me there were a lot of interesting people and things there' .

"If I hadn't known that the two of you were working partners, I really thought you two were the standard template for the kind of gay rich man and the down-and-out artist he took care of." Charlotte grimaced at Francis, earnestly. Tucao.

So Francis showed a good-natured smile to his sister, obviously not intending to be unhappy for this kind of ridicule. He seemed to want to say something, but at this moment the crowd had moved with the floats towards the depths of the prosperous city, like a river of light flowing slowly on the dark road.

"Come on," urged Charlotte. "I'm going to freeze to death if I stand like this—let's see what gifts we can bring your little boyfriend by the way."

Francis murmured something, as if to say, "He certainly doesn't like Christmas antlers," but his voice was quickly drowned out by the noise. Such a dark night is enough to hide any secrets, and no one cares what is written in the core of the people around you hidden beneath the flesh.

There were countless laughter and laughter in the crowd like ripples, and even some people were not believers themselves and didn't care about the meaning of such a festival, but simply enjoyed such a lively atmosphere. They walked far down the street, still hearing the singing from the lit cathedral behind them:

"Lord, please accept the gift we present to you on this most holy night."

——In fact, for many years, Kabbah Slade thought he was the luckier one.

Just look at his experience: more than one choir boy in St. Anthony's Church, but he was the only one in the right place at the right time: he inadvertently witnessed another The scene of the death of two people, and thus escaped. He had no doubt that if he hadn't happened to be in the nave of the church that night, he would have been one of the victims hung from the ceiling with piano strings.

He escaped from White Oak Town, gave up his previous identity, and all the efforts he had made in the seminary. Just when he thought he would spend the rest of his life escaping from unknown shadows, he met Old Thompson - a successful businessman with very similar tastes to him, old Thompson was willing to let him run the club for him and keep him safe with his own hands. It was a happy and carefree life. He and old Thompson have similar interests, so he always has a lot of money on his hands to do what he wants to do. Look, he even finally made a "good name" among these wealthy people in Westland, and when he left that little church in Kentucky, how could he even think of today?

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