* * *

In a feverish dream, I suddenly had trouble breathing. I was choking on the cold air coming in from the window, and I saw in the not too distant future the slick black pavement under the orange cast of streetlamps of winter. It's getting darker earlier, and I'm sick in bed. I think the wet black streets I am remembering come from some place where I am smaller and the pavement is vaster. The winter is coming, and with it, artificial light, soggy shoes, and the gusts of wind. The darkness making envelopes to travel in. The yellow light and swirls of soggy snow.

Goya, Blasts of Wind/Tale Bearers, 1799

UPDATE: Okay, my Soplones are almost over. Now if I could only find the text of Heidegger's "Was ist Metaphysik?" online. I thought the Germans were all about sharing their Kulturalheritage. What gives?!?!