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Commissario Brunetti, Donna Leon 

10/1/2016

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             “…The next morning was as dismal as his mood. A thick fog had appeared during the night, seeping up from the waters on which the city was built, not drifting in from the sea. When he stepped out of his front door, cold, misty tendrils wrapped themselves around his face, slipped beneath his collar. He could see clearly for only a few metres, and then vision grew cloudy; buildings slipped into and out of sight, as though they, and not the fog, shifted and moved. ​


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Photos used under Creative Commons from Andy Hay, _nur, jfgornet, StefanJurcaRomania, Alehins, Borja García de Sola Fernández, G · RTM, Moyan_Brenn, CKGolf, mariosp, A Pourshariati
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