Ah, God, what an ugly city Ilium is!
'Ah, God,' says Bokonon, 'what an ugly city every city is!'
Sleet was falling through a motionless blanket of smog. It was early morning. I was riding in the Lincoln sedan of Dr. Asa Breed. I was vaguely ill, still a little drunk from the night before. Dr. Breed was driving. Tracks of a long-abandoned trolley system kept catching the wheels of his car.
Breed was a pink old man, very prosperous, beautifully dressed. His manner was civilized, optimistic, capable. I, by contrast, felt bristly, diseased, cynical. I had spent the night with Sandra.
My soul seemed as foul as smoke from burning cat fur.

Autore: Kurt Vonnegut Jr.