The air had a cold chill to it today. The sun still hadn’t fully risen, causing London to be covered in a cold gloom. The white sandy coloured buildings stood tall, like mountains surrounding the street. Their wood rooftops peaking above, catching a glimpse of the early sunlight. People's oil soaked clothes could be seen draping their windows, creating a wide array of colours. Many had already started their days; making their way to school, heading to work, and even heading home from the previous night.
I had just stepped outside, and I already regretted leaving my cozy bed. I found the weather here a bit unpleasant; it left my fingertips blue, and my lips chapped. My stomach grumbled with hunger. The small piece of white bread I ate didn’t fill me up. Shocking. The streets were already flooded with people, all with a place to be. I’m not quite sure how people manage to live here, with all the sketchy happenings, and of course, that awful stench. For people who are so afraid of smelling bad, in fear of sickness, they sure smelled like they needed to shower. Maybe after living here for so long you grow immune to the sewer like stink.
As I began to wander down the streets, I heard chants coming from men and women. “Hurry, hurry!” Yelled a young boy. The sound of peoples feet stomping along the cobblestone echoed through the street. “Excuse me” I asked a small elderly man. “What’s going on?” He replied, “There’s an execution about to take place just up the street.” I’ve never liked executions much, I find them rather barbaric.
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