With groaning (but silent) trepidation, he went to the corner of the L and peeped around. The tiger was sprawled on the floor, licking its large paws with a long pink tongue. It looked incuriously at Charles. There was a torn piece of shirt caught in one set of claws. But his need was a white agony now, and he couldn’t help it. He had to. Charles tiptoed back to the white porcelain basin closest the door. Miss Bird slammed in just as he was zipping his pants. “Why, you dirty, filthy little boy,” she said almost reflectively. Charles was keeping a weather eye on the comer…
(c) Stephen King

This picture was taken at Dizengoff square, Tel-Aviv. The writings in the background can be translated from Russian as “Yes, I need death”.