the morning cold clinging to the mists which shrouded the city, again that sense of damp burrowing beneath the skin, gnawing at bones... around midday the sun began to break through, offering a little warmth and watery shadows... enough encouragement for a cycle, out along the river, distances and hills pale, tinted with the lightest of blues, winter biding its time in the shadows, paths scarce of people, a few fishermen stood upon their usual spots while the afternoon drifted back into the mists and night brought condensing breath, an urge for soup or stew and the wish that there was a tofu hotpot place nearby...