He turned the corner, across the street should have been Mr. Charrington’s shop, but all that stood there now was a mass of rumble and charred timbers. Rocket bombs, he thought, They rocket bombed this whole street. Looking down the block he noticed here and there other buildings in the same state as the shop. His eyes returned to what remained of Charrington’s shop, and standing with her back to him in front of the rumble, was Julia. Certainly her waist had gotten thicker, her skin sallower—so had his—but it was becoming easier and easier to recognize her from the back as he once did. He stepped across the street until he came to a spot beside her, she looked up at him, not with a look of dislike as she did before, but a look of nostalgia, of remembrance. They both turned and looked over the mound of brick and timber and dust, the red armed prole woman that always sang while hanging out the wash was most …show more content…
Upon it in small, messy capitals, not dissimilar from his own penmanship, were the words: CANNOT BE TOO CAREFUL, THEY MIGHT HAVE TELESCREENS AND MICROPHONES EVERYWHERE. WINSTON, I’VE REALIZED SOMETHING, AND YOU PROBABLY HAVE AS WELL, THEY CAN CONTROL EVERY SINGLE ASPECT OF OUR LIVES, THEY CAN EVEN CONTROL OUR MINDS, WHAT WE THINK, HOW WE THINK. BUT, THE ONE PART OF OUR MIND THAT THEY CANNOT CONTROL IS LOVE. LOVE FOR EACH OTHER. AFTER EVERYTHING THEY DID TO ME AND DID TO YOU TO MAKE US THINK AND ACT LIKE THEM, THEY COULD NOT STRIP US OF LOVE. WE CANNOT STAY HERE, WE MUST ESCAPE. THEY WILL BE AFTER US THE WHOLE WAY, BUT BEING HUNTED IS A BETTER LIFE THAN BEING AMONG THE SHEEP. WE SHALL MEET IN THE PLACE WHERE THERE IS NO