Abstract
Four days passed. I could have left George IV at any time. I could have found cleaner, brighter, warmer, nicer, fancier accommodations, but I did not. I liked the sound of the bells. I think they came from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I could imagine myself in a small English village. I got used to the racy smells of the Old City, a mixture of coffee, cardamom, and donkey dung in a precise proportion. With a little prodding, I was able to get Mrs. K. Denisoglu to waddle up from her stove with a cup of tea, but I did not trust her fried food.
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© 1983 Birkhäuser Boston
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Davis, P.J. (1983). Babnuda. In: The Thread. Birkhäuser Boston. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4684-6724-6_14
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DOI: https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4684-6724-6_14
Publisher Name: Birkhäuser Boston
Print ISBN: 978-0-8176-3097-3
Online ISBN: 978-1-4684-6724-6
eBook Packages: Springer Book Archive