There is an acrid taste in the air here, and black particles dance in hot furnace drafts, and the heavy sighs of bellows. Somewhere far off you can hear the clattering of cogs, and everywhere around you is the pressing heat of a hundred coal fires.
There is an acrid taste in the air here, and black particles dance in hot furnace drafts, and the heavy sighs of bellows. Somewhere far off you can hear the clattering of cogs, and everywhere around you is the pressing heat of a hundred coal fires.