“…in a moment I would change into it,” he wrote, “when I think that this fog surrounds your house and moves in undulations to your room, and if it had eyes – who knows, perhaps even the fog may see – it could contemplate you through the window. And don’t you think there might be a crack, a tiny interstice to enter through? A miniscule sigh, no more than that, a light breath like imperceptible cotton that caresses you? That’s all the fog needs, all love…”