5/5 Vedesi Gamerz 8. 1 year ago on Google
I
wanted
to
write
an
adventure
story,
not,
it's
true,
I
really
did.
I
shall
have
failed,
that's
all.
Adventures
bore
me.
I
have
no
idea
how
to
talk
about
countries,
how
to
make
people
wish
they
had
been
there.
I
am
not
a
good
travelling
salesman.
Countries?
Where
are
they
,
whatever
became
of
them.
When
I
was
twelve
I
dreamed
of
Hongkong.
That
tedious,
commonplace
little
provincial
town!
Shops
sprouting
from
every
nook
and
cranny!
The
Chinese
junks
pictured
on
the
lids
of
chocolate
boxes
used
to
fascinate
me.
Junks:
sort
of
chopped-off
barges,
where
the
housewives
do
all
their
cooking
and
washing
on
deck.
They
even
have
television.
As
for
the
Niagara
Falls:
water,
nothing
but
water!
A
dam
is
more
interesting;
at
least
one
can
occasionally
see
a
big
crack
at
its
base,
and
hope
for
some
excitement.
When
one
travels,
one
sees
nothing
but
hotels.
Squalid
rooms,
with
iron
bedsteads,
and
a
picture
of
some
kind
hanging
on
the
wall
from
a
rusty
nail,
a
coloured
print
of
London
Bridge
or
the
Eiffel
Tower.
One
also
sees
trains,
lots
of
trains,
and
airports
that
look
like
restaurants,
and
restaurants
that
look
like
morgues.
All
the
ports
in
the
world
are
hemmed
in
by
oil
slicks
and
shabby
customs
buildings.
In
the
streets
of
the
towns,
people
keep
to
the
sidewalks,
cars
stop
at
red
lights.
If
only
one
occasionally
arrived
in
a
country
where
women
are
the
colour
of
steel
and
men
wear
owls
on
their
heads.
But
no,
they
are
sensible,
they
all
have
black
ties,
partings
to
one
side,
brassières
and
stiletto
heels.
In
all
the
restaurants,
when
one
has
finished
eating
one
calls
over
the
individual
who
has
been
prowling
among
the
tables,
and
pays
him
with
a
promissory
note.
There
are
cigarettes
everywhere!
There
are
airplanes
and
automobiles
everywhere.
