It was my angry, Dickensian novel, I suppose. It was cathartic - I expended a lot of frustration on that one.
It was my angry, Dickensian novel, I suppose. It was cathartic - I expended a lot of frustration on that one.
I had a kind of Dickensian childhood.
The city overwhelmed our expectations. The Kiplingesque grandeur of Waterloo Station, the Eliotic despondency of the brick row in Chelsea the Dickensian nightmare of fog and sweating pavement and besmirched cornices.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories