It reaches for me with grey fingers like smoke, like ash. Tears its claws down the soft lining of my throat, my lungs. I gasp and choke, backing up, backing away. But it's hard to escape when it's everywhere. It weaves smog hands into my hair and pours out its toxicity. In desperation my mouth squeezes shut and my hand lifts to pinch my nose, but somehow it oozes its way through, grey self curling downwards where it burns me. With a harsh exhale I force it out, turn my face, but there's nowhere to breath where it's clean. Everywhere a toxic paradise.