All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. Her eye wandered quickly over that riotous and disorderly assemblage, until it settled upon one group more riotous and disorderly than the rest, of which her son formed the principal figure. She had imagined that prisons were white-tiled places, reeking of lime-wash and immaculately sanitary. Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid. ‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you. He too, when she had disappeared, called a carriage. Well, I've had to be.
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