Saturday, February 02, 2013

Grocery run

The fog is out tonight.  It settles over the Puget Sound in slow waves and veils, swirling into strange torn strands as cars slice through, then leisurely pouring back to fill in the wake of their passing.  An articulated bus in front of me turns right onto a side street and serenely dissolves into mist.

This is not the kind of fog that makes you think of living in a cloud.  It's no soft, light muting of the world.  This is a stalking fog.  It's the kind of fog you can walk in for twenty minutes because it waits, following, never drawing attention to itself, until suddenly it embraces you and you find yourself chilled to the bone, with wringing-wet hair.

On the way back from the grocery, the fixed yellow lights along the highway are sharply spaced pins holding this reality in place, anchoring it against the breathing swells of movement in the fog.

Where would it take us if we came undone?

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