Wednesday, March 11, 2015


Brain was foggy this morning, outside was, too, fog shielded eyes from glaring headlights of approaching cars, lingered around fields where the first tufts of green grass are escaping from months of imprisonment under snow. Can't shake out brain or the outside, can't clear up the fog, can't improve the vision, barely see a school bus as the fog light on top flashes garishly, approach street lights in nervous curiosity - if it turns red, will I be able to see it and stop in time? Fog washed out the colours, the white snow is grey, the sky is grey, everything is grey, or maybe that's my cloudy brain speaking again, really what's the difference? Both are foggy. Both are grey, matter of time before the fog clears, maybe it'll retreat into some lonely solace, or maybe it'll evaporate and relinquish its hold on the space, for light, for sun, for clarity, blue skies, so I can see colours. World is colourful, fog likes to drag itself across them and cover them, not let you see them. Maybe by the afternoon it'll be better.

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