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The balconies of the houses stood wide open and the voices of the radio sets poured through them. Every bar had its loudspeaker on. The people sitting on the terraces carried on their discussions in shouts and screams. Gossiping women were sitting in the doorways and flocks of children played and made a noise in the middle of the street. Taxis carrying members of the Worker's Militia on their rounds drove up and down the slope. Their brakes screeched when they stopped outside one of the bars. The loudspeaker bawled out the news, and the streets submerged in silence to listen and to hear... It was strange to hear the phrase proclaimed in a badly synchronized chorus along the street, from different altitudes. No two voices were the same. They reached one's ear clashing and repeating each other.
Arturo Barea, The Clash, Faber and Faber, London, p. 89.
TIME: mid-1930's
PLACE: Madrid
CIRCUMSTANCE: Spanish Civil War
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