At nearly eight o'clock, a silver commercial vehicle broke through the darkness and stopped on the road opposite the Ark Park.
The music in the park is noisy, but the drum beats are powerful and clear, like the beating heart of a city at night.
A young boy in a Western school uniform, with a bag slung over one shoulder, got out of the car.
Before closing the door, a deep and cold male voice sounded from the back seat:
"Remind him that the curfew at home is 11 o'clock."
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