Pablo Picasso Weeping Woman with Handkerchief

Pablo Picasso Weeping Woman with HandkerchiefPablo Picasso Large Nude in Red ArmchairTamara de Lempicka Woman in Red
Carrot went up to his room, and sat in his chair and looked out of the window.
The afternoon wore on. The rain stopped around teatime.
Lights came on, all over the city.
Presently, the behind the Temple of Small Gods, and into the small pit dug for Acting-Constable Cuddy.
There were always only guards at a guard's funeral, Vimes told himself. Oh, sometimes there were relatives, like Lady Ramkin and Detritus' Ruby here today, but you never got crowds. Perhaps Carrot was right. When you became a guard, you stopped being everything else.
Although there were other people today, standing silently at the railings around the cemetery. They weren't at the funeral, but they were watching it.moon rose.The door opened. Angua entered, walking softly.Carrot turned, and smiled.'I wasn't certain,' he said. 'But I thought, well, isn't it only silver that kills them? I just had to hope.' It was two days later. The rain had set in. It didn't pour, it slouched out of the grey clouds, running in rivulets through the mud. It filled the Ankh, which slurped once again through its underground kingdom. It poured from the mouths of gargoyles. It hit the ground so hard there was sort of a mist of ricochets.It drummed off the gravestones in the cemetery