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Gaito Gazdanov's Paris / 24
Neighbourhoods
I went down the narrow, medieval alley connecting boulevard Sevastopol with rue Saint-Martin where, in broad daylight, a lamp burned under the glass awning of a miserable hotel on whose threshold stood a prostitute with a violet face and a shabby fur around her neck; I visited place Maubert, rallying point for the tramps and cigarette-butt-gatherers of the capital, who never ceased scratching their filthy bodies, usually perceptible through an incredibly dirty shirt.
I walked along Ménilmontant, Belleville, Porte de Clignancourt and my heart was wrenched with pity and disgust.
Nevertheless, I would not have learned as much – and only half of what I know would be enough to poison many human souls forever – if I had not become a taxi driver. [46]
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