Sunday, November 17, 2013

In the Time of Fog

“Mystification is simple; clarity is the hardest thing of all.”
—Julian Barnes, Flaubert’s Parrot

Fog is not hard, in any sense, except trying to drive through it along a winding coastal road, perhaps after yoga, a day of letting go.

Fog is itself like letting go, like giving in.  A kind of gentle erasure, a forgetting of lines, a loosening of your tight hold on how things are themselves—how they ought to be.

Simply breathing on the window takes the clarity away.  Easiest, after all, to breathe . . . 

image:  Hidden by the fog, Assisi's Basilica, Umbria
(posted by Penelope) — with Atina Sahad
Italy Art and Architecture


  1. this is lovely. and your thoughts on it like little lights through the fog.
    i have always loved it. but not driving in it. very tense making.
    walking in it is my favorite. like moving in a dream somehow.
    and now. i'm going to sit here with my coffee and visit all the posts I've missed. I slept through the whole month of october you know! a bit like rip van winkle here. LOL.
    your site will be full of little early presents i'm going to give myself.
    and thank you for stopping by and leaving such a lovely message when i was recuperating. xo

  2. oh christie.
    i didn't get far! and already . . .
    November 3.
    "my obligation is to find that quiet (yet fierce) sort of joy in life."
    you take words from my own soul that i haven't heard yet . . . and you speak them out loud.
    what a writer you are.
    never stop.
    well. what am i saying.
    you couldn't even if you tried.
    will continue on. and i promise no more long comments!!!
    or at least no more redundant phrases. lol.