An Autumnal twilight falls upon the streets of Horsingdon, cloaking the region in a strange, phasmagorical sodium haze. Streetlamps take on a sinister demeanour, looming out of the dusk like some bizarre breed of spindly alien mantis - everyday objects suddenly rendered unreal and intrusive upon an otherwise pedestrian landscape.
It is at such moments that the streets of Horsindon become subject to a mysterious perichoresis: everything becomes liminal, and a sudden wrong turning, or the misguided decision to take a shortcut down a rarely used and poorly-lit alleyway, can draw the hapless traveller inexorably into a vast and unknown realm from which few ever return - and from which fewer still come back unchanged.
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