"In the crowded subway car, the telegraph messenger was crushed back to back against a big woman blonde perfume that smelled of" Mary Garden ". Elbows, heels, shoulders, buttocks s'urtavano every jolt of the train screaming. The cap sweaty Western Union received a blow that sent him sideways. Like to have a female, a female like it would be worth a disaster rail, and the lights turned off, and a pile ... " (from John Dos Passos," Manhattan Transfer ", 1925)
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