I would like to ask whether you know that smell, the one given by billions of tiny drops of water suspended in the cold air on the early morning or early evening. The same one that still has also a shadow of something else, maybe cut grass, fallen leaves, smog, train brakes, and almonds. The same one which makes your clothes feel wet without pouring water, which let you walk in a sensation of fluidity, as if air and water would have mixed forming no sparks but water bubbles. And so levitating while swim-walking one tries to find the known landscape outside the own apartment door, but everything is disappearing in this fluid: in the fog.