Anthony. Mr. Hopkins appeared in the dim light of the performance room, and the chaotic scene before him did not attract much attention, and he looked up, his gray hair unkempt, clinging to the round skull, and his thin nose rushing into the air, looking like a humanoid mink.

He stepped forward, his slender legs brushing the feline's colourful fur indiscriminately, and the tigress's sturdy tail lifted up like a snake swimming in the air, and it pulled over the doctor's thigh, the end bent beautifully above the knee—Dr. Hopkins felt like a real whip or a leather stick on the flesh. He stopped, half turned to the side to look at the beautiful lady of her prime—the color of wine gradually seeping through the dark blue pupils of the humans, and the tigress let out a soft mrunt from her throat, turned her head, and moved her limbs again in harmony and gentleness, but in the blink of an eye, it was silently submerged in the darkness not far away like a handful of gold dust sprinkled with ink, and the other three tigers followed it closely.

The Medic stood still and thought for a moment, then continued through the overturned chairs and messy decorative ribbons. The monkeys watched from a distance, making vigilant calls, and the little curly-haired dogs, collectively chained to the side of the monkey cage, huddled together in horror, looked like some kind of whining monster with many dog heads. Dr. Hopkins didn't mind chasing them out, revealing what was pressed under the puppy's wet bodies - what looked like the remains of dinner that had been treated by a garbage shredder, the doctor picked up a creamy yellow hard object, squinted his eyes and looked at it for about thirty seconds, making sure it was a human gum, his fingers arcing in the air, and the virtual muscles and skin bonded through his mind to the bone covered with tiny marks, A woman's jaw, about twenty to twenty-two years old, is distinctly erected in the doctor's brain.

The bones were taken by Anthony. Hopkins put it under his nose, bit it with his teeth again, tasted her taste, and the wonderful music reverberated through his skull - the overture to Wagner's "Famous Singers of Nuremberg", the violin sings "The Motive of Love", which is immediately followed by the "Motive of Passion". Then the woodwinds suddenly played the "Famous Singer's Motive" briskly, and soon the bass strings were boiling "fast moving".

In the past, that is, until he was ten years old, every Christmas, the heavy, black-horned brass record in the house would put this opera record on it, it was a summoning order, and it was an invitation card, and relatives and friends gathered in their estates to spend the whole cold winter, everyone was smiling, neatly dressed, eating and drinking in the sonatas represented by twelve famous singers such as Sarkos, and even his sister, Xiao Sasha, who was still in the arms of the nanny, would be carried out and drink a milk liqueur... … Ho, look, look, now it's the flute and oboe to play a beautiful lyrical melody in the high register, and Anthony's parents danced first, followed by the guests, his soft, milky body swaying between the waists and legs of the adults, her eyes shining like stars, and her cheeks as flawless as jade...... When did it all end? Anthony. Mr. Hopkins later investigated that his parents were killed about six months before Christmas, when he turned ten, seven months before the end of the war, and that the destruction and seizure of the estate was two months before Christmas.

The victorious side played a brilliant march with brass instruments as the main instrument, and the defeated soldiers ran into the manor with guns, and they drove away the few adults and locked the children in the cellar. Hopkins smelled the smell of the lid-covered cellar that was deep in his thoughts, like the smell of a freshly killed chicken turning over its sacs and gizzard pouches, and the smell of unwashed, bleeding pigs stewed in hot water—and he slid swiftly toward the black cellar like a snowy slide down the top of a hill, his back cold, the wind whistling in his ears, his hands and feet swaying in the air, unable to find a place to grasp.

Peng, he fell to the bottom, and the horns of the night guard reached from the base of Mr. Hopkins' skull to the temples—the children huddled together, scattered in the sand and hid in his arms, they were cold and hungry, and the grumblings of the routs came from the door—they finished eating the food of the manor, and then went hunting in the forest near the manor, but when the blizzard came, they never went out again, and a dozen large men, huddled in the living room of the manor, they spit, defecate, and tear off the velvet curtains as covers, The delicate and ornate furniture was chopped for firewood, and there was a very beautiful set of armchairs in front of the fireplace in the living room, the armchairs with brocade cushions had been dismantled a few days earlier, and there was still a plush footstool left, which they had taken to the garden.

The door of the warehouse opened, and the children were taken out one by one by the adults, saying that they were taking them to "play", but no one returned, and finally one day, a man grabbed Anthony, and he stroked and kneaded his arms, legs, and body, but in the end he chose to sprinkle sand. She was violently dragged out of Anthony's arms, though the boy had done his best and desperately to hold on to it—she had put a rope around her neck like the fawn that had been caught by these routs the other day, and she was pulled, stumbled, and reluctantly followed the adult, her face covered with tears—Anthony followed closely behind, and as he tried to rush out of the warehouse, his arm was broken by the slamming door, and he fell to the ground, praying to God in pain and darkness that he would see his only relative again, He hoped that one day he would be able to bathe the chubby little sa in the warm water of the sun in the garden full of flowers and trees, and amuse her with a fat eggplant.

Sasha loved the color purple, and he knew that the purple reflection of the eggplant was in her clean eyes.

His wish was fulfilled in a fraction of it, and he saw a few white, delicate baby teeth carved out of angels and a few sun-kissed blonde hairs scattered among the brown stains and snow on the walnut step stool in the garden.

- So when people are freaked out by his peculiar fetishes, Anthony. Mr. Hopkins always had a pure doubt or thought—if God allowed a pure and sinless child like Sasha to be eaten, who else in this world could not be added to his recipe?

He was very smart and good at learning, and after completing most of his studies that ordinary people would not be able to achieve, Anthony . Hopkins began to dive into the subjects of psychology, history, time and space—extracted from ancient texts, discovered in the latest technology, guided by absurd metaphysics, paved with rigorous calculations—all in one direction, hoping to go back in time, to that dark storehouse, to the moment when Sasha was still in his arms.

After meeting Catherine, he has a new topic - that is, if she can find a new shelter for Sasha, can she be resurrected in this world?

He did, thankfully, and Catherine finally approved of the idea—and he led Catherine into her own house of memory, starting with the bathtub covered with sunshine, flowers, and clean water, and ending with the dark and smelly cellar, the snow and blood stained footstool.

He thinks that Catherine has a part of the sand in her, and Catherine thinks that he has a part of the sand in him.

He liked the idea.

As he had hoped, after about two to three years, Sasha found a new place to live in Catherine's **, and she returned, no different from the image he remembered, with pink cheeks, slender pale blonde curls, and eggplant purple in her eyes, chubby, and heavy.

Catherine died, leaving him and Sasha. They are inseparable.

The cellar in the depths of memory has not been opened in these six years, but the number of times is very small, and the few are almost negligible; Falling to the ground, the torn glass did not reassemble again and again, bonded, and flew back to its original position, Anthony. Hopkins's recipes are only in the first year or two of using the same unusual ingredients as they used to be.

But now it was different, the cellar door was open, Anthony heard the sound of the axe and the wailing of the fawn, he saw the brown stains on the snow, and his arm ached violently again.

***

Anthony. Mr. Hopkins let go of the bone, his cold fingers digging into the filthy mass of hair, fumbling for the clasp of the collar, and with a click, a little curly dog was freed from the shackles of man.

It stood still, shivering, until a few of its companions joined the free, and it let out a crying baby and ran away.

The doctor stood up, paused slightly, and walked towards the elephant.

As he approached, the elephant lifted its trunk, its ears stretched to the sides to make its head look bigger, and its heavy fours stepped up and down on the floor, trying to kick up the dust. Hopkins turned a blind eye to the threat, as if the staggering power of thousands of pounds was some fiction or over-exaggeration—and he bent down, grabbed with both hands the iron rope that fastened a nearly half-ton behemoth to a stake, and pulled it away.

Now the elephants are also free.

As for zebras and camels, they are much easier to handle, Anthony. Mr. Hopkins simply used the knife he carried with him to cut their reins.

The red-eyed animals hesitated in place for a while, as if to get used to their unrestrained state, and then they didn't know which one started, but in a few minutes, only Anthony was left in the circus arena. Mr. Hopkins.

"Morning Shines with Rose" proceeds beautifully and smoothly, and the lovers are about to be married.

He raised his arm, let his palms press against the muscles and skin covering his heart, and bowed to the empty auditorium.

"Thank you very much, gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, the show is over."

(To be continued)

I'm sorry.,Yesterday because there was something in the company.,Stop for a day.,Today because I have to go out to run errands.,I can only update one chapter.,The remaining chapter will be made up tomorrow.。

Take a bow!

In addition, I would like to enclose a little opera material used here: "Famous Singers of Nuremberg" - Wagner takes famous singers as the theme of this play, with reality and human nature as the theme, the music is always in a comic atmosphere, bright and lively, and a diatonic counterpoint melody based on the major key, fresh and three-dimensional. I won't take up the word count here, so if you are interested, you can listen to it.