I’d dropped my papers at tists, and ing-room, or ‘parlour’ as o call it, , but it ime for a bit of grub. I don’t kno it into my o go into a milk-bar. to-ten-pound-a- ing-places in London. If your idea of t to spend on a meal is one and t’s eit’s t of bitter and a slab of cold pie, so cold t it’s colder tside t editions of the evening papers.

        Be red ter a girl in a tall    tiddle-tiddle-plonk, a kind of tinny sound.    to myself as I    in. tmosp t gets me doreamlined; mirrors, enamel, and ce    on tions and not all. Just lists of stuff    of pom stuff t you ’t taste and    ence of. Everyt of a carton or a tin, or it’s    of a refrigerator or squirted out of a tap or squeezed out of a tube. No fort, no privacy. tall stools to sit on, a kind of narroo eat off, mirrors all round you. A sort anda floating round, mixed up o t t food doesn’t matter, fort doesn’t matter, notters except sliess and sreamlining. Everytreamlined no ler’s keeping for you. I ordered a large coffee and a couple of frankfurters. te cap jerked t me    as mucerest as you’d ts’ eggs to a goldfish.

        Outside tarnoosstanNERD!’ I saer flapping against    ‘legs’, you notice. It    doo t. ting-room, done up in a broions of tion o be so passionately ied in ted legs t t need any furtrodu. t    t. It’s queer, I t, as I ate a bit of roll, ting noting people up and leaving bits of t tryside. Not a patcic poisoning dramas, Crippen, Seddon, Mrs Maybrick; trut you ’t do a good murder unless you believe yoing to roast in .

        At t I bit into one of my frankfurters, and—C!

        I ’t ly say t I’d expected to    taste. I’d expected it to taste of not t e an experience. Let me try and describe it to you.

        ter emporary teet muc. I o do a kind of sa before I could get my teet in my moutten pear. A sort of    stuff ongue. But taste! For a moment I just couldn’t believe it. tongue round it again and ry. It er, filled    up and raig    touc t migasted of.

        Outside tandard into my fad yelled, ‘Legs! ‘Orrible revelations! All till rolling tuff round my tongue,    out. I remembered a bit I’d read in t tories in Germany z, t. I remembered reading t t of fis, out of somet. It gave me t I’d bitten into t it ’s treamlined, everyt of someteel everyatio, everyted over, mock-turtles grazing ural fruit-trees. But acks a your teeto someta’s . Rotten fising inside your mouth.

        teet a lot better. t nid smoot sounds absurd to say t false teet’s a fact t tried a smile at myself in a s    of an artist and doesn’t aim at making you look like a toote advert.    s full of false teeto me once—all graded acc to size and colour, and    like a je of teural.

        I caug struck me t really I    su t side, admittedly, but not tailors call a ‘full figure’, and some o , I t. I remembered my seventeen quid, and definitely made up my mind t I’d spend it on a ime to    before t, just to baptize teeteen quid I stopped at a tobaist’s and bougial to. t inceed pure he same as anywhere else.

        of t quite different.

        I’d s, teet of feeling. All of a sudden I felt kind of tful and p ly because I didn’t o do. My mind    back to ts of    in a kind of propic mood, t a certain kick out of it.

        I rand, and t o get t you     your reaming up t, all of t insane fixed expression on t people reets, and traffic    red buses nosing tooting. Enougo    not to , I t. I felt as if I y of sleep-’s an illusion, of course. rangers it’s    door to impossible not to imagi probably t t you. And tic feeling t keeps ing over me no    round t    peculiar to me. e’ve all got it, more or less. I suppose even among t t moment t al pictures of ts and tever t you t at t. But t    except me. I looked at treaming past. Like turkeys in November, I t. Not a notion of o t    X-rays in my eyes and could see tons walking.

        I looked forreet as it’ll be in five years’ time, say, or time (1941 t’s booked for), after ting’s started.

        No, not all smaso pieces. Only a little altered, kind of cy-looking, t empty and so dusty t you ’t see into treet ter and a block of buildings burnt out so t it looks like a oote. It’s all curiously quiet, and everyone’s very toon of soldiers es marcreet. ts are dragging. t’s got corkscreac oo and    a coug almost tears o ba tyle. ‘Na yer ‘ed up!    yer keep starin’ at t of cougcries to stop it, ’t, doubles up like a ruler, and almost cougs out. urns pink and purple, acer runs out of his eyes.

        I     lorious troops aken a op-floor-ba Birming of bread. And suddenly t stand it any longer, and s it, ‘S your trap, you little bastard!’ and ts bottom    any bread and isn’t going to be any bread. I see it all. I see ters and tor oil and trung out of bedroom windows.

        Is it going to ’s impossible to believe it. Some days I say to myself t it’s just a scare got up by t.

        doion of t tAtEMENt. ter caugPONED. King Zog!    a ’s    door to impossible to believe a ’t a jet-blaegro.

        But just at t moment a queer t I suppose, as I’d already seen times t day, it raffic or tarted memories in me.

        t is a curious t’s ime. I suppose an    your t en or ty years ago, a most of time it’s got y, it’s just a set of facts t you’ve learned, like a lot of stuff in a ory book. t or sound or smell, especially smell, sets you going, and t doesn’t merely e back to you, you’re actually IN t. It    at t.

        I    Lo y-eigo outill rand, fat and forty-five, eet, but inside me I , Lo ! You knoy, deg, sis of smell. toud per’s a bit overlaid by yello predominantly it’s t s, dusty, musty smell t’s like toget’s powdered corpses, really.

        In t four feet anding on to see over t, and I could feel Motogs pulled up over my knees—o    ton collar to buckle me into on Sunday ms. And I could    t nobody else got mucer, taker. to sit opposite one anot t. Ser    man ad of fell ae different. , gaunt, po sixty, iff grey ly like a skeleton. You could see every line of t, and    lanter like ton in an anatomical museum. A rong as iron, as to be a    ce different, too. Ser e, agonized bello    and    letting out    yell for    etremendous, c o and fro underground.    out, you aly more in reserve. tummy.

        to get up a kind of antip, especially in t    e life, but in my kid’s o imagirying to s one anoter    ‘tely. You aler. I used especially to look foro t psalm t    about Sies and Og t King Zog’s name er art off es’, t of tion singing tidal remendous, rumbling, subterranean barrel-    into t        later, , I formed a picture in my mind’s eye of Si Egyptian statues t I’d seen pictures of in toatues ty feet ting on te one anot mysterious smile on their faces.

        came bae! t peculiar feeling—it    describe it as an activity—t o call ‘C corpsy smell, tle of Sunday dresses, t of lig it across t traordinary performance ook it franted, just as you took t in big doses is on every . by . Even nos out of t of til to Beerse    ood it, you didn’t try to or    to, it    a kind of medie, a queer-tasting stuff t you o so be in some raordinary rigmarole about people iff garments and Assyrian beards, riding up and doemples and cedar trees and doiraordinary t s,    in fiery furnaces, getting nailed on crosses, getting she an.

        t    back to    King Zog. For a moment I didn’t merely remember it, I . Of course suc last more t later it y-five and traffic jam in trand. But it    a kind of after-effect beimes rain of t you feel as if you er, but time it , it     I’d beeo speak, all tling to and fro, and ters and trol-stink and to me less real ty-eight years ago.

        I -place ts nose- bag. At t-s a iger sitting being-sergeant in    jacket, tig, is strutting up and doing adsod’s in ’s on tes and Og tting on t one anot doing anytly, just existing, keeping ted place, like a couple of fire-dogs, or the Uni.

        Is it gone for ever? I’m not certain. But I tell you it o live in. I belong to it. So do you.
请记住本书首发域名：966xs.com。966小说手机版阅读网址：wap.966xs.com