War is Peace Freedom is Slavery Ignorance is Strength INGSOC
It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions.
The room was full of men in black uniforms, with iron-shod boots on their feet and truncheons in their hands.
Through the mid-day hours he sat with glazed face, the bottle handy, listening to the telescreen.