of Plenty, but he was aware (indeed
everyone in the party was aware) that the prizes were largely imaginary.
Only small sums were actually paid out, the winners of the big prizes being
non-existent persons. In the absence of any real intercommunication between
one part of Oceania and another, this was not difficult to arrange.
But if there was hope, it lay in the proles. You had to cling on to
that. When you put it in words it sounded reasonable: it was when you
looked at the human beings passing you on the pavement that it became an
act of faith. The street into which he had turned ran downhill. He had a
feeling that he had been in this neighbourhood before, and that there was a
main thoroughfare not far away. From somewhere ahead there came a din of
shouting voices. The street took a sharp turn and then ended in a flight of
steps which led down into a sunken alley where a few stall-keepers were
selling tired-looking vegetables. At this moment Winston remembered where
he was. The alley led out into the main street, and down the next turning,
not five minutes away, was the junk-shop where he had bought the blank book
which was now his diary. And in a small stationer's shop not far away he
had bought his penholder and his bottle of ink.
He paused for a moment at the top of the steps. On the opposite side
of the alley there was a dingy little pub whose windows appeared to be
frosted over but in reality were merely coated with dust.