Mr B may be between jobs, but there’s no end to the man’s industry. Here he is in action up at the Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalunya.

“The world is inhabited by two categories of people,” anticipated officer Fumero to himself as he slunk after the couple through the Plaza Real and into the Calle de Colón, “those who drop farts and those who smell them.” He had eaten and drunk heavily and was in an assertive mood.

“We’re being followed,” said Daniel nervously.
“Of course,” said Fermín. “After all, this is 1830s 1940s Barcelona.”
At that moment a huge eructation rent the night air. Dogs barked and spinsters stirred.
“What was that?” cried Daniel.
“Oh, don’t worry,” replied Fermín, “that was just the wind of the shadow.”

[Zafón knows Hugo and a considerable number of others, but I wonder if he’s read The man who laughs.]

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