Wednesday, 13 February 2019

Ink in War of the Worlds

Directly below him the balloonist would have seen the network of streets far and wide, houses, churches, squares, crescents, gardens - already derelict - spread out like a huge map, and in the southward blotted. Over Ealing, Richmond, Wimbledon, it would have seemed as if some monstrous pen had flung ink upon the chart. Steadily, incessantly, each black splash grew and spread, shooting out ramifications this way and that, now banking itself against rising ground, now pouring swiftly over a crest into a new-found valley, exactly as a gout of ink would spread itself upon blotting paper.



HG Wells, The War of the Worlds, 1898

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