Unknown Artist Music and Literature

Unknown Artist Music and LiteratureUnknown Artist heda Still LifeJohn Constable Wivenhoe Park EssexJohn Constable Weymouth BayJohn William Waterhouse Destiny 1900
the sort of thing you expected in the Street of Alchemists. The neighbours preferred explosions, which were at least identifiable and soon over. They were better than the smells, which crept up on you.
Explosions were part of the scenery, such as was left.
And this onevoice, ‘f’r a word. Tip of my tongue.’
‘Blister?’ volunteered Throat.
He recovered his commercial senses. ‘After an experience like that,’ he added, proffering a pastry case full of so much reclaimed organic debris that it was very nearly sapient, ‘what you need is to get a hot meat pie inside you-’ was pretty good, even by the standards of local connoisseurs. There was a deep red heart to the billowing black smoke which you didn’t often see. The bits of semi-molten brickwork were more molten than usual. It was, they considered, quite impressive. Boom. A minute or two after the explosion a figure lurched out of the ragged hole where the door had been. It had no hair, and what clothes it still had were on fire. It staggered up to the small crowd that was admiring the devastation and by chance laid a sooty hand on a hot-meat-pie-and-sausage-in-a-bun salesman called Cut-me-own-Throat Dibbler, who had an almost magical ability to turn up wherever a sale might be made. ‘Looking,’ it said, in a dreamy, stunned