It wasn’t the fog I minded, Cathleen. I really love fog. It hides you from the world and the world from you. You feel that everything has changed, and nothing is what it seemed to be. No one can find or touch you any more.”
― Eugene O’Neill
Mystical shroud, thick and damp, swaddles a drowsy new year.
Low and slow hangs the young Winter’s sky as she dips to kiss the ground.
Where does the earth end and the sky so wide begin?
Somewhere hidden in the grey whispers the Fog.