Dickensian Evening

Breath hangs like white ribbons in the cold December night above a moving sea of huddled coats and woollen scarves. 

Wooden chalets spill their warm spiced aromas.

A carousel spins its painted horses through a haze of roasting chestnuts. 

Cold hands cradle paper cups of mulled wine to warm the palms, while the sound of laughter mixes with the tunes of a distant brass band.

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