By George Orwell, Amélie Audiberti
**THIS IS A FRENCH TRANSLATION OF THE ENGLISH NOVEL**
Nineteen 84, by way of George Orwell - Akasha Classics, AkashaPublishing.Com - It was once a vibrant chilly day in April, and the clocks have been outstanding 13. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast for you to break out the vile wind, slipped fast during the glass doorways of Victory Mansions, notwithstanding no longer fast adequate to avoid a swirl of gritty airborne dirt and dust from getting into in addition to him. The hallway smelt of boiled cabbage and previous rag mats. At one finish of it a colored poster, too huge for indoor demonstrate, were tacked to the wall. It depicted suggest a tremendous face, greater than a metre huge: the face of a guy of approximately forty-five, with a heavy black moustache and ruggedly good-looking gains. Winston made for the steps. It used to be little need making an attempt the raise. Even on the better of occasions it used to be seldom operating, and at the present the electrical present was once bring to an end in the course of sunlight hours. It used to be a part of the economic climate force in guidance for Hate Week. The flat used to be seven flights up, and Winston, who used to be thirty-nine and had a varicose ulcer above his correct ankle, went slowly, resting numerous instances at the means. On each one touchdown, contrary the lift-shaft, the poster with the large face gazed from the wall. It used to be a type of images that are so contrived that the eyes persist with you approximately in case you circulation. great BROTHER IS looking at YOU, the caption underneath it ran.
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Extra info for 1984
Undoubtedly, she would describe it in detail to Witwer. He’d never get off Earth, never have an opportunity to find out what life on a frontier planet might be like. While he was thus preoccupied, a board creaked behind him. He turned from the bed, clutching a weather-stained winter sports jacket, to face the muzzle of a gray-blue A-pistol. “It didn’t take you long,” he said, staring with bitterness at the tight-lipped, heavyset man in a brown overcoat who stood holding the gun in his gloved hand.
You won’t be lonely. ” Helplessly, Anderton watched pedestrians hurrying along the rain-swept sidewalks. He felt no strong emotion. He was aware only of an overpowering fatigue. Dully, he checked off the street numbers: they were getting near the police station. “This Witwer seems to know how to take advantage of an opportunity,” one of the men observed conversationally. ” “Briefly,” Anderton answered. “He wanted your job—so he framed you. ” Anderton grimaced. ” The man eyed him languidly. “So you’re the ex-Commissioner of Police.
Anderton immediately approached the blond-haired young man. “You’ve got what you wanted,” he told him. “You can lock me up, and send me to the detention camp. ” Witwer’s blue eyes were pale with uncertainty. “I’m afraid I don’t understand—” “It’s not my fault. I should never have left the police building. ” “We’ve already clamped down on him,” Witwer replied. ” Anderton’s face was grim. “You’re holding him for the wrong reason,” he said. “Letting me into the monkey block was no crime. But passing information to Army is.