I have entered a foggy daguerreotype. Gas lamps a buttery blur along the edge of a static river. Old Europe. Mercury vapour. The gentle grey light, and steam billowing from vents, grey dissipating into grey. Pigeon, caught between rooftops. Man, becoming silhouette, hat, chest forward, strides towards me. Cobblestones. Could this really be Strasbourg? Germania Superior, seat of the Dancing Plague.

I unmoor myself from the frame, become cloud, float over Black Forest, hallucinate bears. The Europe of trees and mist and cold rivers. The tribal strongholds, far from the heat centre of Rome. Mist and darkness, not seeing less, but seeing differently, OTHER THINGS.

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