Erik Larson Quote
The bells on the streetcars ring, buses clatter by honking their horns, stuffed full with people and more people; taxis and fancy private automobiles hum over the glassy asphalt, he wrote. The fragrance of heavy perfume floats by. Harlots smile from the artful pastels of fashionable women’s faces; so-called men stroll to and fro, monocles glinting; fake and precious stones sparkle. Berlin was, he wrote, a stone desert filled with sin and corruption and inhabited by a populace borne to the grave with a smile.
Erik Larson
The bells on the streetcars ring, buses clatter by honking their horns, stuffed full with people and more people; taxis and fancy private automobiles hum over the glassy asphalt, he wrote. The fragrance of heavy perfume floats by. Harlots smile from the artful pastels of fashionable women’s faces; so-called men stroll to and fro, monocles glinting; fake and precious stones sparkle. Berlin was, he wrote, a stone desert filled with sin and corruption and inhabited by a populace borne to the grave with a smile.
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