Fog
2002 07 07
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I miss the fog. It seems that as I grow older foggy days become less and less frequent, and less and less shrouding and comfortable than they used to be when I was a child. Perhaps it's just, like with so many other things, we become jaded, whittled down, and lose that sense of innocence and belief in magic that could see the charm and beauty in everything. I think that is the one worst thing about becoming an adult, losing the sense of magic and wonder, losing touch with the simple joys of living, and of life itself.