the fog
journal entry 1/19/24 There is a fog clinging to the air above the sidewalks tonight–a fog or a mist, or perhaps it doesn’t matter. It’s white and hazy and sparkles underneath the street lamps, and it looks like my breath when I exhale. I breathe in and it hurts (I brushed my teeth with mint toothpaste right before this), I breathe out a cloud and it joins the rest of the mist, swirling and dancing happily around in the cold. There is a fog in my brain tonight, and though I can’t see it, it’s probably much less beautiful than the fog outside. It’s hot and heavy and I’m pretty sure it’s keeping me from walking in a straight line. It’s been here since this morning when I opened my eyes at 7:17, dragged my body into the grimy shower stall, and somehow made it up the hill for a London Fog–there’s that word again. I think it’s haunting me. Come to think of it, the fog was there last night, too. It settled during a three ...
