I don’t know about you, but I adore the foggy weather. It always appears out of nowhere, so quickly and quietly, one second and the world is covered in this magical, pale, fluffy blanket. I hate science for giving logical explanations for all the natural phenomena, and not leaving space for some mystery and imagination. Because for me personally, this is a pure mystery. Even the word mist is similar to mystery. Not very logical, but it’s fine by me.
I love wandering outside, with no specific reason, just aimlessly roaming around, not seeing what’s behind and ahead of me, feeling like in a fairy-tale. Because now the reality has no precise boundaries, so it can be the way that I want, the way I imagine it to be.
The sound of rain, dropping on the roofs, the cawing of crows, the rustling of dry leaves beneath my feet…along with the last colorful leaves left on half-naked branches of trees, and the mist, whitening every single corner… that sounds like a perfect November walk.