Yevgeny Zamyatin — We [364]

The morning bell. I rose. But now all was different around me: through the glass of the ceiling, the wall—everywhere—dense, penetrating fog. Crazy clouds, now heavier, now lighter. There were no longer any boundaries between sky and earth; everything was flying, melting, falling—nothing to get hold of. No more houses. The glass walls dissolved in the fog like salt crystals in water. … And everything was swirling smoke, as in a silent, raging fire. — Yevgeny Zamyatin, We, 364

Note

The dissolution of geometric certainty into organic, chaotic fog, capturing the narrator’s psychological destabilization through environmental description.