The silence of fog is reassuring unless you are at the wheel driving on the road. On the land it mutes sound and color and offers a dreaminess of expectation or dread given the observer’s condition. Who will walk out of this ectoplasm toward us? What is there unseen but felt? A ghost or an old friend, a past lover or a hideous monster?
A January Fog
Posted on January 24th 2017 by
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