The opening paragraph of Idol Smasher

The man smelled like liver and onions, but that wasn’t the only reason I refused to marry him. Although Isaac Benjamin was a community leader and might be found walking Cordoba’s streets at any time except the Sabbath, on that sacred day you could trace his footsteps by sniffing the air, which was already sweet with horse droppings and the secretions rising from the crotches of the city’s more enterprising prostitutes. Regardless of this typical urban blend, if Isaac’s horned yellow skullcap had recently floated past his scent would be strong enough to keep the stray curs panting over growing puddles of drool, while gangling university students would rub their stomachs and rake their pockets for any crumbs leftover from the morning’s orgy of fried empanadas…

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