A main feature of the annual celebration of America’s birthday, aside from the Bar-be-ques and cold beverages, are fireworks shows.
Countless counties across the country (yes, I wrote it like that on purpose) host some sort of festival or carnival with at least one night culminating in red glare from rockets. Fireworks don’t excite patriotism in me. I don’t loathe them by any stretch, but I’m not sore if I miss one or two. However, even if I manage to blink my eyes for a moment and don’t see the one that looks like a waterfall, I can rest assured knowing someone has tried to take a picture of the firework.
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