Musing

-5C/23F, overcast & calm; my sore heel determined our walk would be a short one around the lagoon; Gusta distracted by sight of a beagle pup in the distance . . traffic crawls in heavy fog

if there is a reason or rationale why things occur, I cannot imagine what practical purpose fog serves – it yields surreal sights & sounds, tweaks imagination or reminds of a Hitchock movie, of ships or planes colliding or things that go bump in the night – as if it is night time in the middle of the day

beach walks at an ocean, on a lake . . fog horns & gulls & water lapping shore; I don’t see or hear it but the fog makes me feel it as if I were there

through early morning fog I see . .

sweaty pavement, wet faces & cars crawling their familiar paths to avoid calamity, drivers cautious not to overdrive their lights’ capacity to pierce the fog

intriguing & weird, fog makes a colour world black & gray & white

in it lurks danger, mystery . . . or beauty . . . just out of our eye’s reach

then … the morning sun burns it off . . as if someone turned the contrast button to turn shapes of gray into a color movie

through early morning fog I see whatever I want to sea

Mark

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