ToC
On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven,
the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough
of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in
his hand, appeared at the threshold. You have watched
all the uncouth creations of my brain come sprawling out upon the canvas, and
besides, we have been companions. The freezing water reached her chin and she felt the heat
of her body dispersing, creating a disappearing patch of
warmth as her limbs froze. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the
narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She
squealed. “But I still think of my old
foster brothers and sisters. Wild.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 26-06-2024 18:23:37