Six o’clock

The streets lie still, quiet rows of light twinkling in the dark. A balcony on the second floor, filled with pink glow. Lines of green, yellow and red, hanging from the facades of dark houses, windows dim and deserted. At the turn of the lane a tea stall waits. On the lids of the glass jars, five candles stand at different heights, their glow reflecting on the dark glass, almost photographic.

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