Fog hangs in curtains over the earth, especially in the morning, especially over lakes and rivers. Fog looks dense and imposing from a distance. Other worlds could be running behind the curtains of fog. I hope there are monsters with big feet that tremble the earth. Armored breastplates clatter when monsters line up to march. Like the fog, monsters look imposing from a distance, but up close they’re falling over one another. Sprites land on monsters’ shoulders and blow thin streams of air into their ears. Monsters startle and trip over twigs. Sprites giggle and flit away into the denser fog.
Fog smells like morning. Its smell runs smooth metal trains up your nose and circles the trains, whistles blowing and steam pluming, inside your head. Fog blooms as the sun rises. Fog is a different kind of flower, preferring a gray sky to shake loose its petals. Fog lets us build small cabins to live in for an hour or so. It pulls us out of the world and builds walls around us. Given the chance, I believe I’d live out my life in a house of fog.