A young and premature adolescent boy, garbed in orange and dressed like a human tangerine, blows his whistle, puffing through his tiny high-pitched instrument. His best friend and favoured companion — arm and superior limb draped over and hung across his shoulders and the upper joints of his arms — eyes the crowd, scrutinizing the congregation in the distance far ahead. A nervous, anxious granny-babushka, a secret classified object and article concealed in a hidden manner beneath the mantilla shawl atop and above her head and uppermost follicles, passes by and moves adjacent. Meanwhile at the same time, behind them in the background a serious man of grave appearance directs his gaze in an alternate direction and looks the other way with calculated knowingness.
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