driving home from the west coast on sunday there was an eerie presence of mist hanging quietly over the coast and nearby farmlands. it reminded me of the mists of the marshes in a dickens novel. usually when the young hero of the novel ventures into the thick low-laying mists there is an element of danger on the horizon and intrepedation to follow.
the road was covered in it. it was moist and heavy and smelt of ocean. and the windmills. beacons in the frozen scape. aah. i could have wandered in that mist for days until i was good and proper lost. and i wouldn't have minded at all.