Felix in the Underworld
“It was a sharp, angry bark, which seemed to be the product of a dog infuriated by life and eager to bite by the throat, and shake to death, any passing stranger. And then, as he climbed the stairs, he got a great waft of the smell he dreaded, which had made him shamefully sure that he could never have followed Chekhov into the cholera wards and the penal colony. It was the sharp, acrid smell of urine, over which hung the sweet, clinging odour of shit, mixed on this occasion in a cocktail which ...included stale sweat and mouldering carpets. He was about to see those street-sleepers whose lives were far removed from those of the middle-aged patrons of Shell Mex House, and whom even Constable Basil couldn’t tolerate because, as he used to say, of ‘their habit of defecating over the side of their staircase, regardless of the safety and comfort of passers by’.
Felix remembered the books in his grandmother’s house: carefully preserved, hardly read copies of Dickens and Victor Hugo.MoreLess
Felix remembered the books in his grandmother’s house: carefully preserved, hardly read copies of Dickens and Victor Hugo.MoreLess
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