1.

The air is cold and damp. It seeps though the pores of my skin and rushes in like its being chased by the Devil, ice-filled flames and stuffed down my throat with arctic weathered pitchforks as I breathed in and out; struggling to make the clouds of steam warm my hands when I blow on them as I walk the streets of a city I had last visited, on a purely pleasurable basis, some five years before.