Henri Rousseau Eve painting

Henri Rousseau Eve paintingHenri Rousseau Carnival Evening paintingHenri Rousseau Boy on the Rocks paintingHenri Rousseau Bouquet of Flowers painting
turned the shooter faceup. Somebody’s son, his early twenties, with a shaved head, wearing a tiny coke spoon for an earring.Hazard was glad to see the mouth stretched in a death rictus and the eyes full of eternity, but at the same time he was sickened by the sense of relief that flooded through him.Standing in the storm, swallowing a hard-to-repress sludge of half-digested mamoul that burned in his throat, he used call the division and report the situation.After making the call, he could have gone inside to watch from the foyer, bwould suspect him of tampering with evidence. Their sinister assumptions might charm the OIS team.That scratching in his bones again. That sense of wrongness.One dead upstairs, one dead here, sirens in the distance.What the hell is going on? What the hell?ut he waited in the downpour.City lights reflected in every storm-glazed surface, yet when night swallowed twilight, darkness swelled in threatening coils, like a well-fed snake.The rat-feet tap of palm-pelting rain suggested that legions of tree rodents scurried through the masses of arching fronds overhead.Hazard saw two snails on the dead man’s face. He wanted to flick them off, but he hesitated to do so.[157] Some onlookers at the windows