The Torricellian column of mercury within its brass housing has descended to nine and twenty inches, eighty-two hundredths, and continues its slow, deliberate fall—a silvery exhalation that speaks of …
A profound hush, as of a held breath, lies over the Carpathian gorge this tenth hour. The mercury in my barometer, that slender silver serpent, creeps downward to 29.79 inches—a slow, inexorable desce…
Out of the Kneeling Glen, where the river's breath congeals into impenetrable fog, the mist creeps upward in slow, deliberate tendrils, as though the earth itself were exhaling a phantom. Above, the f…
The mercury within my barometer has begun its slow, deliberate descent—29.82 inches and falling—as if the very atmosphere exhales a weary sigh. Above, a clear starry sky, though nearly half-veiled by …
A pale, luminous hush has settled upon the high crags, as though the Carpathians themselves hold their breath in anticipation. At this sixteenth hour, the sky wears a mantle of 55% cloud, yet the sun …
The mercury within my barometer has ceased its restless trembling, settling at 29.99 inches with a steadiness that bespeaks a truce between the upper and lower airs. At ten o'clock this day, the therm…