city. After two years, she had somehow grown accustomed to it.

"City is really weird!" yet mumbled the young girl once again.

"This city is riddled with scars, yet people shut their eyes to them! It''s as if a person with a face full of wounds stands in the middle of the road, the wounds festering and oozing, while passersby simply hurry past, some even ！pause to admire her beauty."

Edith turned to the painter in amazement. He spoke with a scowl and a slightly hoarse voice, his hands gripping the railing so tightly that they looked bloodless.

Andre seemed lost in his own thought. Only after a moment did he realize that Edith was staring at him.

"My apologies," he whispered to the child.