I often think about how horrid life is. Here you are, thrust into this place by someone else’s act of pleasure; utterly ignorant and dependent upon the circumstances you find yourself in. You listen to the musings of your leading lights as though they were holy writ and you see the world they imagine; whatever it happens to be.
Thus a picture of the world begins to haunt your imaginative environment.
Picture this world of darkness and overcast skies with the coke plant in the distance belching out an aroma that would rot the lungs of anyone breathing it in partial purity. Cars and trolleys and tracks on a brick street and houses looking at each other across a narrow alley of dirt all gray or dark brown. In each house the smell of coal in the basement and the concomitant dirt and filthy dust; all this next to a large dirty manufacturing plant brick wall.
And I would take the pleasure of waking to life in this?
u3C
