She bought herself a street map of Paris, and, with the tip of her finger, she went shopping in the capital. She walked up the boulevards, stopping at every turning, between the lines of the streets, passing the white squares that stood for houses. Eventually she would close her tired eyes, and in the darkness she would see the gas-jets writhing in the wind, the folding carriage-steps that were let down with a great clatter outside the main door of the theater.
~Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary
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