Fog
For the last few days the city lies under a blanket of spring fog. The snow recedes, the earth bleeds water flooding everything. From my sixth floor residence, I watch the peaks of trees and the few tall buildings hold their own above the milky mess that clings to the earth below.
I take another shot of Troika, attempting to smother a realisation… the realisation that where ever I go I will find landscapes that leave the soul breathless, while the absence of the people I’ve left behind will forever leave me feeling fragmented.
Posted in Life by Arthur Brash at March 9th, 2010.
Two things stand out in this lovely vignette: the sumptuousness of the scene you so well describe; and the fact that you still had some vodka left.
:)