I was as unburdened as a piece of dandelion fluff, and he was the wind that stirred me about the world.
“Fog everywhere. Fog up the river where it flows among green airs and meadows; fog down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping, and the waterside pollutions of a great (and dirty) city.... Chance people on the bridges peeping over the parapets into a nether sky of fog, with fog all round them, as if they were up in a balloon and hanging in the misty clouds.”
― Bleak House
― Bleak House
Sarah’s 2025 Year in Books
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