In a Strange Land

by Maugham, William Somerset

It’s so wet here and even upon peeling off my socks I can barely make out where the water ends and the feet begin. And then my olfactories open as the dog greets me with lick-to-nose and it’s the same thing: where does the wet-dog smell stop and the dog herself start? I dare not eat under these conditions, which remind me of Maugham. And this story. And hot water bottles. What a perfect night for a hot water bottle.


Article written by miette

Miette has been podcasting the best of world literature's short fiction since March 2005, when she was just a pup.

One Response

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  1. Scoot
    Scoot May 20, 2005 at 5:56 pm |

    Now, how did I miss this one? It’s light, but a great deal of fun. I must get back to Maugham, along with everyone else…

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