“One night in the small hours, there was a murder just beneath my window. I was woken by a fearful uproar, and, going to the window, saw a man lying flat on the stones below; I could see the murderers, three of them, flitting away at the end of the street. Some of us went down and found the man was quite dead, his skull cracked open with a piece of lead piping. I remember the colour of his blood, curiously purple, like wine; it was still on the cobbles when I came home that evening, and they said that schoolchildren had come from miles to see it. But the thing that strikes me in looking back it was that I was in bed and asleep within three minutes of the murder. So were most of the people in the street; we just made sure the man was done for and went straight back to bed. We were working people and where was the sense of wasting sleep over a murder.”
George Orwell, “Down and Out in Paris and London”, 1933.
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