[…] and it contains a very good selection of shrubs and herbaceous plants, which, having good soil and plentiful drenchings of water from a garden-engine all the summer, thrive to admiration.
Then a clutch of long sharp icicles broke from a chandelierlike mass above his head and fell, shattering around the piano like glass swords.
The walls had once been stuccoed with perhaps beautiful paintings,—damp had effaced all, except patches where blues, reds, and greens, had mingled into one dim and discoloured stain.
And the man, another Jamaican, says him don't buy puss in a bag so open the bag and make me see the goodies, and I zip down my pants and take it out, and then he asks me to jack off and I'm feeling weird […]
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