It really sounded like something out of a Russian novel about a depressive wretch.
"As the first light
hit my window-sill,
crepuscular and sluggish rays with the faintest memory of heat,
the half-decayed corpse of a rat began to smell so horrid that I awoke with a start.
As always, the stench signaled the time to head to the sardine canning factory,
where my nose would have a brief respite." - Asmon Zloto, 1865
It really sounded like something out of a Russian novel about a depressive wretch.
"As the first light hit my window-sill, crepuscular and sluggish rays with the faintest memory of heat, the half-decayed corpse of a rat began to smell so horrid that I awoke with a start.
As always, the stench signaled the time to head to the sardine canning factory, where my nose would have a brief respite." - Asmon Zloto, 1865
Having a job at a canning factory would mean he leaves his house far more often than Asmongold does.