The fog is starting to depress me. It presses in with it's stink of cinder and mildew. The meteorologists blame it on stagnant air, but I will call it the lazy winds, or maybe the unmotivated atmosphere.
Who can trust a weatherman anyway, sham soothsayers in their secondhand suits, waiving manicured hands at projections of isobars and conjuring visions of picnics in the unmaterializing sunshine.
So I say, out you damn murk. Let the lazy winds cast you into condensation-hell. Gnash your yellowed teeth at others, you doldrums.
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