“Granny’s was frightening. But one day he plucked up his courage and went downstairs to introduce himself, Hi, I’m living upstairs, I’m Salman. The girl in the shop came close, so that he could see the contempt on her face. Then slowly, fashionably, she shrugged. ‘Conversation’s dead, man,’ she said.
Up and down the King’s road walked the most beautiful girls in the world, ridiculously underdressed, accompanied by peacocking men who were equally ridiculously over-dressed, in high-collared frock coats and frilly shirts and flared crushed velvet trousers and fake-snakeskin boots. He seemed to be the only one who didn’t know what it was to be happy. – Salman Rushdie, Home.