Fog billows into the mainland ever so quietly during the small hours before dusk.
Creeping and crawling, it swallows the houses and trees, hazing the luminescence of the street lamps. The streets are deserted now. No movement, no sound.
flicker
is that your heart?
The daylight breaks the shrouded dark, but the gray low lying clouds still drift above the dewy grass almost as if whispering to Mother Earth from the Heavens.
The cool mist clings onto my skin as I slowly walk through the lazy fog.
And as the white world swirls around me, my small figure slowly fades away from sight.
