27 October 2013

Misterious Myst



I really love misty mornings. They convey something unknown. Undiscovered. Yet familiar but somewhat different. Why? We’ve seen the things hiding in their foggy veil a thousand times. Sure we did… but isn’t “mystery” what is written in the air hovering just above the river? Mystery that wants to be explored and revealed. I still think that somebody might have misspelled mystery with a “y”. Somehow it makes you wonder if you really recall the things as they are. Familiarity is a tricky thing. You can never be too sure. Then the fog lifts and it’s exactly what you thought, right? Well, kinda. Almost. More or less, you know…  

I look out of the window and see blurred buildings, silhouettes. Fog-shrouded they play hide and seek. In the distance there is a kind of milky nothingness bearing something after all. It’s calling: The closer you are, the better you know.

I go out and feel the chilly mask being placed on my face. It takes some time for my lungs to adjust to the harsh air. My head appreciates the clearing, awakening effect. Then my eyes try to make out shapes and fail. My lips, however, crack a subtle smile. It’s a misty morning lasting for a while.