Chapter 3 Chapter two

Kai sat by the window, looked down at the bowl in front of him, and smiled.It was worth a fortune, she was sure.If it is brought to the "Travel Appreciation of Treasures" column, just to be on the safe side, she will appear last, because the high auction price assessed by experts will definitely cause a sensation among the audience. She sighed and looked out the window, overlooking the gray city.The Kasimik high-rise apartment where she lives is built on the hillside, and the entire city of Glasgow can be seen under her eyes.In any other city, places with sweeping views like this would normally be reserved for the rich, and then Caskin Hill would be dotted with garden houses, but not here, she never understood , maybe because it is too far from the city.

Looking out of the window, the city of Glasgow is gray, and the street lights have started to flicker, it is that kind of dirty yellow, but maybe this city is not gray, it is the window of my kitchen that is gray, the glass is on the outside That side, covered with a layer of dirt that could never be washed off, shone with an oily luster.As she hurried up the hill from the bus station downhill, she used to look up at the windows, see the matte coating on the glass, the ones that would never get cleaned.Who the hell thought it was a good idea?On good days, you'd think it was the planners' fault, on bad days, you'd think they harbored a hatred for the future residents here, feeling dirty, low, undeserving of clean windows, jealous of their bird's-eye view A view of the whole city.

She flicked the ash away slowly, flicking, flicking, flicking, as if there was an invisible opponent across the table, they were talking, and her flicking of the ash was to mark their conversation.There were two chairs in the kitchen and one at each end of the dining table.There are five people in this family, but there is only one table for two people. She took a deep breath, savoring the sensation of it sliding down her throat, burning down, filling her lungs; realizing that this was the puff she wanted, she smiled.She smokes 20 cigarettes a day, 6 puffs each, maybe 7 puffs, or 120 puffs a day, but only one puff she enjoys.This is a kind of smoking cessation training, in order to let her understand that smoking does not bring her happiness, smoking is meaningless.But this method doesn't work.Knowing how precious that sip was, she actually enjoyed the feeling it brought her even more.Bounce, bounce, bounce, she smiled at the ashtray...

The door of the cupboard was open, hanging in the air, as if it was about to fall, and the layer of plastic film covering the operation surface of the composite panel had partially fallen off, and the place without plastic protection swelled due to moisture.The property had agreed to renovate the kitchen, and they had been to the property management down the hill to choose from three options for new worktops and doors, but that was months ago. Kay heard the door to one of the bedrooms across the hall open, and Mary stepped to the kitchen door, looking away from Kay, into the distance, as if she were just passing by.Mary, who is only 13 years old, is very shy and hardly ever goes out, but she likes to wear thick nail polish; There is a pink halo on the cheek.

"Have you put on makeup, baby?" Mary suddenly felt inexplicably embarrassed, "Shut up." She stormed back to the bedroom. Kai bit his lip to stop laughing.Mary once cried in shame just because Kay said she liked Rebecca in front of a male classmate in her class. "Honey," she called, "we have chips." Mary hesitated, then strode across the hall with her head down, still not looking at her mother.She fumbled in a cupboard, found a multipack, and pulled out a small packet of salt and vinegar. "I like your nail polish." Mary stared at her. "Well, then, I don't like it."

Kay sighed, "Can we stop doing this, Mary? Or you'll give me back my potato chips." Mary suppressed her smile and snorted disdainfully, but she sniffed a little snot; she touched her wet upper lip and looked at her mother reproachfully, "For God's sake." She walked away angrily, not forgetting to take the potato chips. Kay took another puff of the cigarette, and it was bad, the sour, musty kind, the kind that made her want to quit immediately. "Where are my sneakers?" Joe's slender figure appeared at the door, "Is that a potato chip chew?"

Before Kay could answer, he walked briskly into the dark kitchen, rummaged through the multipack, and took out two packs of cheese and onions. "One pack is enough!" He dropped a bag on the console, "Where are my sneakers?" "Don't you have eyes yourself?" "Because it's easier to find with mom's eyes." He opened the potato chip bag, took some out, and stuffed them into his mouth. Joe is charming, that's what's annoying about him, he's always using his charisma to get people to do this and that for him, and Kay doesn't want to pamper him, "Go away, I'm in menopause."

"Seriously, where are my sneakers?" She turned back to look at the dirty window. "Mother?" She suddenly fell down on the table, looking defeated, "Where did you take off?" "The door." "Did you look for it at the door?" "No, do you want to see it?" She didn't answer. He turned and looked at the storage box behind the door.She put the box there so the kids could throw in their laundry, and it was transparent so she could see the sneakers were on one side. He saw it too, grunted, and walked over to the storage box. Now he was going out, and he would be gone for hours.For a child of this age, standing on a street corner has an irresistible charm, and hanging out with good friends is simply the best thing in the world.Kay remembers being this age, not so far off, but before these four kids, and she can still recall the excitement, the intense attraction.hormones.Now, she has four children, one next to the other like the steps of a staircase, who entered puberty almost at the same time, and all of them are full of energy.

"Hey," Joe called to her in the hall.She looked and saw that he was sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out into his shoes. "What's up?" "You look depressed, sitting in that dark place." Being attacked by her son's unexpected charm again, her mood brightened, "I'm fine, son, I'm just a little cold." "Are you sure? Shall I bring you a bag of chips?" "No, I'm fine." She watched him pull his coat out of the locker and put it on, with grace and grace; he always exudes a kind of grace inadvertently.He opened the door and walked towards the dark staircase, leaving a cold draft through the hall.

Jo was her favorite child, and it's wrong to be a parent in favor of one or the other, but that's how she is.They were both puberty, but Joe was the only kid who noticed how she was feeling, and sometimes he would try to cheer her up and cheer her up. Kai took another drag on his cigarette.It was getting dark outside the window, but she was too lazy to get up and turn on the light.She sat in the growing darkness, enjoying the brief moments of silence.It won't be long before she starts making tea, and the next round of chores.From the street below came the sound of boys running and yelling, they were playing football, and she guessed a group of girls were leaning against the wall to watch.Farther away was the city of Glasgow, and she could see the high-rise apartments of the Gauber Quarter, the brightly lit city center and the zigzag tower of the University.

The light from the hall fell just on the side of the ashtray, that is, the side of the little bowl, where the red enamel petals shone, and the snake-like silver thread was the work of a Moscow craftsman.She sighed and touched it with the tip of her finger.Gustav Klingert, she checked the internet for this marking on the bowl, it's from the 1880s. Kay sat back and looked at it carefully: it was a small bowl, the mouth of the bowl was tightly closed inward, and the inside was that kind of old gilded silver, the cold watery luster of silver and the warm light of gold complement each other, and the outside The bottom of the enamel body is yellow, and the red flowers and white and blue leaves growing out of the coiled silk thread are extremely coquettish, and a thin line composed of blue dots connects the mouth of the bowl and the bottom of the bowl as a whole. She stretched out her hand and touched it gently with her fingertips, feeling the silk threads wrapped around the enamel. What attracted her most was the red enamel, which was clear and transparent, like peeled jelly. She didn't even know how to say it. The art style of - Ros - tov fin-ift - the word is hard to pronounce, but she likes the fact that it's hard to pronounce, it makes her feel like this thing is from another universe, like Obi-Wan Kenobi or something of. It wasn't really her thing, but the patterns of the Russian enamel artwork came from peasant embroidery, poor women who designed the patterns and color schemes.They embroidered designs on tablecloths and on the hem of clothes.They worked hard in the cold and dark room, and their fingers were often pricked.Those poor women have a deep desire for beauty, and only by creating these beautiful things can they have the strength to pass through the darkness and feel the vitality of life. Hundreds of years later, however, jewelers appropriated their designs, replicating them on expensive objects such as this bowl, belt clasps, and printing on On the tea caddy.These things were so expensive that the women who sewed would never be able to afford them, and she was one of those women.Sitting in her dimly lit kitchen, the intricate patterns on the bowls spoke to her of beauty created from nothing, of the importance of discovering and appreciating beauty, even through a dirty window. Kay knew that of all the people who had owned or used this bowl in the past 130 years, no one loved it like she did, touched it with her fingertips as she did during the long sleepless nights, Touch the silver thread that twists and turns in the brilliant colors.