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START: Oh Nancy! You run, girl. Don’t look back, there’s nothing there for you now. You run till your heart’s tearing out of your chest and every muscle burning and you keep on, you keep on running.
[...]
END: If you ate trotters back then it weren’t ’cause you were posh it was ’cause you were desperate, and if you lived here, god knows it weren’t ’cause you chose to. Unless you were coming with some kind of death wish, unless you knew deep inside it’s where you belong. ’Cause this is where they keep the carcasses. The dead meat market.
Laura Wade, Tipping the Velvet, Oberon Books, Electronic Edition, pp.105-106.
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