I knew this book, I knew these words. As i read, my minds eye danced to a familiar tune and tenor. I heard and felt the echos of long archived melodies in the Chambers of long untrodden rooms. I don't know what dickens was smoking, but going by the sheer emotions he is able to evoke in the span of 84 pages, it was no mild sativa. I cried. I cried in a way I haven't cried over a book in quite sometime.