The mist rolls in like a wave, without warning and as inescapable as breathing.

In the cold air, an airborne sea of water droplets form a unity solely enabled through complete separation; particles prohibited to fuse into drops too heavy to remain afloat. Like billions of stars they flow, small enough for light to penetrate their fabric, yet big enough for them to obscure the view of that which lies behind. It is an enchanting sight where light remains visible but all thing else is clouded behind a cloak of uncertainty. Shapes and outlines that under other circumstances would own identities. Objects of forms and hues. Objects with names and integrity.

Emerging from the sheltered darkness of the metro, I walk the path to my house. In a forest patch on a hill, a staircase appears carved in miniscule detail in comparison, blessed with the attention of many light sources that impose the impression of frozen moons stuck at arm’s length.

I’m reminded that light can holds as many secrets as the dark.