It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him. The hallway smelt of boiled cabbage and old rag mats.

Es war ein heller kalter Tag in April, und die Uhren schlugen dreizehn. Winston Smith, sein Kinn in seine Brust geschmiegt in einer Bemühung den abscheulichen Wind zu entkommen, schlüphfte rasch durch die Glastüren von Victory Mansions, doch nicht schnell genug um eine Wirbel von kiesigem Staub davon zu verhindern, neben ihm zu betreten. Der Flur roch nach gekochtem Kohl und alten Teppich-Matten.