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Chapter 16: The Man of the Mist (1)
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... walked along the Thames River for a while. I remained silent, and Liam simply followed me with his hands politely behind his back. Mist was gently creeping in, the river flowed, and people came and went. To be honest, it wasn’t romantic. The morning fog carried a stench. A putrid smell that made my stomach churn, slick and nauseating.
You might not imagine it, but as Henry Mayhew once described, the Thames River, regardless of location, smelled like a cemetery. Though human corpses didn’ ...
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