The fog

It was a foggy Sunday morning. The fog actually began to envelop the campus since last night, I realized it as I was walking back from Park to my dorm. Fog wrapped everything with a coat of mysterious white. All that have been familiar to me on this campus suddenly became unfamiliar. Everything adopted an air of mystery. I could not see really far. Things only became familiar when I got closer to it. Walking along the road, any approaching tree seemed to be gradually revealing itself from behind a curtain, secretly and mysteriously, and ambiguously disappeared again as I walked pass it.

In the dark and foggy night, reality and unreality mixed. These two concepts are often approached in arts and literature as some kind of beauty that stimulates curiosity and admiration. But in nature, or in life, the unclear and mysterious seemed more frightening, at least to me... Or perhaps, there is no such thing as unreality, just my own fear of the unknown reality. Perhaps, unreality is just a presentation of possibilities, or even magic. Who knows what might emerge from our unpredictable nature ~

The Fog by William Henry Davies

I saw the fog grow thick,
Which soon made blind my ken;
It made tall men of boys,
And giants of tall men.

It clutched my throat, I coughed;
Nothing was in my head
Except two heavy eyes
Like balls of burning lead.

And when it grew so black
That I could know no place,
I lost all judgment then,
Of distance and of space.

The street lamps, and the lights
Upon the halted cars,
Could either be on earth
Or be the heavenly stars.

A man passed by me close,
I asked my way, he said,
"Come, follow me, my friend"—
I followed where he led.

He rapped the stones in front,
"Trust me," he said, "and come";
I followed like a child—
A blind man led me home.