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Death in the window

Modifié le : 2019/08/07

There’s no need to say, it’s sur­pris­ing. As with all the streets in the neigh­bor­hood, shops are crowd­ed at inter­sec­tions to attract as many peo­ple as pos­si­ble. Fruits, cof­fee, butch­ery, cof­fee, gro­cery, micro­brew­ery beers, noth­ing abnor­mal and espe­cial­ly promis­ing, because the shops are, for the most part, admin­is­tered or owned by young peo­ple. The neigh­bor­hood is get­ting more and more bour­geois ; the church­es are get­ting tired of it because, like snakes, they are turn­ing into bas­kets of condos.

The eye is there­fore dou­bly attract­ed by this show­case of stuffed ani­mals that sag a lit­tle under the dust. They seem to have been dead for a long time, mum­mi­fied for the good mem­o­ry, no doubt, of the own­er of the place. The scene is intend­ed to be rocky, or a junk gar­den of Eden. Any­way, what is most sur­pris­ing is that it is the show­case of a bar­ber. What if, in the back shop, the recal­ci­trant cus­tomers were embalmed ? What if the hair of this lit­tle bird had­n’t been repaired by a wick of the lady ?

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