Vladimir Abarinov “The sunset of England, my dear Jeffrey,” he interpreted, “began on the day when we stopped drowning with coal ... We are used to living in fogs, magnificent, light -posed, rusty fogs of our early childhood ... We had a foggy way of life and a rich, vague, breathing literature ... And only from fog we could rule the world. We were a voice, like a voice with Sinai, smiling through the clouds ...