The Clockmaker's Fog
London in the late nineteenth century was not a city of stone and mortar, but a city of ghosts, and the fog was their veil. It was a thick, jaundiced smog, a mixture of coal smoke and river damp that clung to the skin like a wet cloth and tasted of sulfur and old iron. It didn't just obscure the vision; it erased the world, turning the familiar streets of Spitalfields into a shifting, surreal...
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