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[personal profile] j4
Last night it was cold, so cold that my breath hung in the air like words I should never have said. The fog glowed orange under the sodium lights, a falsely cheerful curtain of artificiality drawn over the dark night.

Today the sky is colourless and the streets are wet. Not so cold, but the stillness and greyness is as oppressive as the fog.

Everything feels unreal. "I can connect / Nothing with nothing." My thoughts chase each other round like shadowy figures in the mist, just out of sight, out of reach. In the time it takes me to finish writing a sentence I have forgotten why I started it.

Last night it was cold. I feel the cold more than I used to, these days.
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