This was taken during a foggy morning in early fall amid the kind of eerie stillness that forces introspection and an odd sense of hallucination. If my song of celebration for fog started years ago as a subtle heel-tapping, it’s grown into a full-on drum solo. I love it all—the otherworldliness of it, the secrecy, immediacy, mystery. The way it transforms the familiar into shapes, discolorations, and mere suggestions of form is almost seductive. Maybe reality, after a while, just gets too mundane, and a good blanket of fog helps to cast things in a new light. Or maybe I’m just crazy. Either way, I hope you like it.