I love the fog. I had forgotten how much I love it until I woke up this morning and saw it settled in around the neighborhood. Like rainy days, foggy days change my mood. With a thick blanket of fog around me I feel unseen and unnoticed. Maybe because I can't look out and see the world through the thick fog, I see within myself more clearly too. I like that fog is completely silent and it comes in with stealth, sneaking in while we sleep or while we are inside and covering everything in a thick, wet soupy haze while we are completely unaware of its presence. I like that when you walk through it you can feel tiny little flecks of moisture hitting your face and exposed skin. When I was young, my aunt used to tell me that tiny little fairies were dancing around in the air and what you feel hitting your face are the fairies kissing you. I think about that every time I walk in the fog and it makes me happy and comforted. I like that everything looks different when it is foggy. The same things I see everyday of my life take on new shapes and shadows and it feels like a different world. Familiar landmarks fade into the fog and turns you have made thousands of times are easily passed by. I like that you can go one block in pea soup fog and the very next block it is sunny and bright. Fog is discerning and it goes where it wants to and not where it doesnt want to. I like fog at night and the way street lamps are eerily obscured by it. I like the way a lone person walking down the street looks walking in the fog, a dark mysterious silhouette. I like the fog, it reminds me of home.