Snowflakes dance on lamplight gold,
City veins in silver cold.
Windows glow, a whispered spell,
Evening’s beauty, pure and fell.
Breathe the frost, embrace the night —
Winter’s kiss, pure delight!
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I wrote this story many years ago, when I was (yet again) in the situation described here. It's happened to me many times. But I still believe it's written accurately.

A small, small, impossibly small man stood before a wall of fog.
It seemed the entire world lay ahead of him—a vast, impossible Universe rising from the earth at his feet and stretching into infinity. These clouds, so voluminous, like immense feather pillows, these billowing masses of fog.
Around him and behind, there was nothing. No one. He stood alone before the infinite. Leaving everything THERE.
There, far away, where no road led back, remained earthly life—so simple, so flawed, so comprehensible and familiar.
He caught himself not fully grasping the finality of this step.
Continue reading https://exegi.substack.com/p/to-pass-through-the-fog

“You can’t,” I said.
The car had stopped beside us on the hill. We looked up at the ruin—another forgotten Avogadro fortress, crumbling behind rusted gates and NO TRESPASSING signs.
The driver nodded and drove off, but the question stayed with me. How do you get in? And more than that: why are there so many castles here that nobody can get into, that nobody even knows about?
It was one of those winter days you wait for all season—actual sunshine, breaking through weeks of fog and rain. I had maybe three hours before the light died, and I was desperate to escape my own head. So I did what any reasonable person does: I opened Google Maps and typed “castles.”
Three popped up. Close together. A loop I could drive in an afternoon.
I grabbed my keys.
Continue reading https://exegi.substack.com/p/the-land-where-survival-was-an-art
