I don’t know how I got there, but the next day, I found myself back at Mr. Charrington’s shop – the shop where I bought the paperweight and the diary I am writing in at this moment. Mr. Charrington seemed happy to see me; probably because he was glad of the couple dollars he got from me.
I heard someone singing outside the window. The tune was oddly familiar, but I realized it was the same tune that had been haunting London’s streets for weeks.
In preparation for Hate Week, my work hours were increased, which unfortunately meant that I wouldn’t be able to see Julia that often. We made plans to go back to the clearing in the wood, but she cancelled last minute. I’m not sure why, but I was angry; I felt like Julia was almost cheating on me. The first time we made love was simply an act of will, but the second time, it was completely different. She was becoming a physical necessity; not only something that I needed, but something that I had the right to. After all, every man has the right to sex in my mind. I don’t care about what Big Brother or Goldstein have to say. I wish that Julia and I were a married couple and had a place where we could be alone. Somewhere where we wouldn’t have the obligation of making love every time we met.
Julia passed me a packet that had a strange and yet vaguely familiar feeling. It was real sugar, I knew. Along with the sugar, she also had some coffee and real tea. She told me it was all Inner Party stuff, but I didn’t know how she managed to get hold of them. I guess that would have to remain a mystery.
Julia looked beautiful with her face painted and the fact that she was a Party member and was wearing cosmetics intrigued me. Julia was just as rebellious as I was. And I loved that.
- Winston Smith