Gripped with bitter cold, ice-locked, Petersburg burned in delirium. One knew: out there, invisible behind the curtain of fog, the red and yellow columns, spires, and hoary gates and fences crept on tiptoe, creaking and shuffling. A fevered, impossible, icy sun hung in the fog – to the left, to the right, above, below – a dove over a house on fire. From the delirium-born, misty world, dragon men dived up into the earthly world, belched fog – heard in the misty world as words, but here becoming nothing – round white puffs of smoke. The dragon men dived up and disappeared again into the fog. And trolleys rushed screeching out of the earthly world into the unknown. (“The Dragon”)

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