A fog horn is boom booming in the night. Since sundown, late afternoon, when the mist that had retreated crept back. On the Internet I have tried to find where it might be, but no luck. Two long blasts, then a long pause. We could be in a rocky fishing town. The cat sleeps on the carpet, the electric razor buzzes from the bathroom where Vince is shaving, the keyboard taps and then the fog horn covers the night again.