Six chapters in, I remain ungripped. This seems very self indulgent of Flaubert.
A most unfortunate Kindle scanning error:
the precious stones shining through the painted columns made patterns of light on the sleeping feces.
a great din of trumpets, cymbals, assbone flutes, and tympani
Assbone? Urban dictionary offwea some predictably unrelated definitions. Or perhaps it is only the examples that are unrelated. Assbone also appears to be among the world's worst surnames.
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