Darkness and fog, twin agents of mystery, obscure the landscape of canals and bridges that only hours before were bathed in clear sunlight. By midnight, details have faded away. The bricks of the grand gabled facades, curling yellow leaves clinging to branches, and the features of people walking by – all is erased under cover of darkness. Only shadows remain, roaming freely while lamplights stand guard, suffusing the mist with watercolor yellows. The air itself seems heavy, a palpable thing that twists around me.
It is a city of phantoms: on quiet side streets, the occasional silhouette emerges suddenly out of the fog, passes by without a word, and vanishes just as quickly. Color is drained from the world, time becomes meaningless, and space shrinks to a bubble, encompassing only what I can see in front of me. Is this place real?
