And I go out of Father's house and I walk down the street, and it is very quiet even thought it is the middle of the day and I can't hear any noise except birds singing and wind and sometimes buildings falling down in the distance, and if I stand very close to traffic lights I can hear a little click as the colors change.
Mark HaddonAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist
- Nationality: english
- Born: September 26, 1962
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Since its appearance the view that prostitution is a product of capitalism has gained ground enormously. And as, in addition, preachers still complain that the good old morals have decayed, and accuse modern culture of having led to loose living, everyone is convinced that all sexual wrongs represent a symptom of decadence peculiar to our age.
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She had a horror he would die at night. And sometimes when the light began to fade. She could not keep from noticing how white. The birches looked? and then she would be afraid, Even with a lamp, to go about the house. And lock the windows; and as night wore on. Toward morning, if a dog howled, or a mouse. Squeaked in the floor, long after it was gone. Her flesh would sit awry on her. By day. She would forget somewhat, and it would seem. A silly thing to go with just this dream. And get a...
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