A dense fog has settled over my town. I love it.
I love the isolation, the feeling that you're in your own little bubble and the trees and houses around you are the only things that are real, and aught else is mere myth and hearsay.
I love when a car goes past, and you can see its taillights fading into the mist and then they disappear and it's still close enough you could throw a rock and hit it, but you can't see it.
I love the way everything goes indistinct, and then you're right in front of a house and you can see it in detail, every line of every board and every color standing out, bright somehow in the gloom.
I love seeing a streetlight, but all you can see is this floating orb hanging, lonely, in the air.
I love when a figure looms in the mist, dark and foreboding, and gets closer and larger until it resolves into a small old woman.
She grunts hello.
"Hi," you say, "Nice night for a walk."
She grunts again, and is lost to the world.
5 comments:
This is why I live for overcast days (thick fog is almost unheard of here)- days when the sky closes in and presses against you, and of course when most other people go indoors. On such days you can look in any direction and even into the sky and see and touch and feel the air around you without worrying about bumping into someone or being interrupted.
Like when we were in that castle on a hill in Germany and when we came out, we were in a cloud.
Nat: Yes, that.
*grumbles about people who go to foreign countries without him.*
I love fog, too. The fields disappear, and the sky actually does seem to touch the earth.
It's almost the best weather possible when one can walk for miles and miles and it still looks like one hasn't moved an inch.
Fog's very poetic, too.
Lovely post.
Aye, it is that.
Thanks.
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