I set down this remembrance here, because it is an instance to myself of the manner in which I fitted my old books to my altered life, and made stories for myself, out of the streets, and out of men and women; and how some main points in the character I shall unconsciously develop, I suppose, in writing my life, were gradually forming all this while.
[. . .]
When my thoughts go back now, to that slow agony of my youth, I wonder how much of the histories I invented for such people hangs like a mist of fancy over well-remembered facts! When I tread the old ground, I do not wonder that I seem to see and pity, going on before me, an innocent romantic boy, making his imaginative world out of such strange experiences and sordid things.
— David Copperfield, chapter 11
Photo: surviving wall of Marshalsea Prison (on right), London, 2024
Quid Plura? 
“how much of the histories I invented for such people hangs like a mist of fancy over well-remembered facts”
Most of the histories probably hang like a mist of fancy, if not over well-remembered facts themselves, then at least interpretation of said facts.
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It is interesting that the building across the way should have the razor wire just below second-story window level.
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It is odd, George, but as far as I can tell, that building is just an office with a public library and a number of tenants in business, finance, tourism, and other fields. I’m not sure why they’re worried about someone scaling the wall, but I suppose there’s a story there.
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