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It was the grand nursery of vice. I was reduced to 170 a fool, for there were many pretty women from all walks of life in that teeming city. But she did not know what he knew, that it would always be rolling up, enlivened by suggestion, no matter how trifling. Her naked body was an abomination of caked filth and sagging tubes for breasts. Sailors would leave them at the trader's. Her hair is like, white blonde, but trust me, it’s not her natural color. Before her stretched blank spaces, dotted with running people coming toward her, and below them railings and a statue.
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