the fog.

I love the fog. I wish I was some sort of writer that you could refer to as that writer who is known for writing about fog.  I want to be that person.  Because I am that person who sits and watches and soaks in the fog.  I could sit among it all day if I could.  I would make it my perfect spot for reading.  My only spot for thinking.  The place where I'd retreat when I was sad, and the place I'd run to scream out my success.  The fog feels like home.

On my adventure with Jensine, we were lucky to see the sun rise over the Bay Area then we were doubly lucky that same morning to see the city still covered in its layer of fog.  We headed over to Lands End in search of a labyrinth but I also found myself.  I found the spot.  I found the spot I've been thinking of all week.  The spot which I want to spend endless foggy mornings reading.  The spot I want to plan my takeover of the world.  The spot I want to share picnics with the one I love.

If you could, you'd want to be there with me, too.  It was amazing.

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