Fog

Last night, P. talked of India. He showed us pictures on the back of his camera. He showed us a woman dancing on the edge of a sword, eight pots balanced atop her head. He showed us a tiger preserve devoid of tigers. He showed us the Taj Majah, shrouded in fog. Actually, he told us, the fog made it even more magical.

There's a fog in New York. The tops of buildings disappear into it. It feels almost like a light rain, and threatens to turn into one. I can't remember the last fog I walked through, though I remember the sandstorms in Beijing, and the rains that followed us through the Three Gorges.

As P. talked, I thought of train stations and sleeper cars. Thirty-hour train rides. A country passing by the window. And my passport, which needs to be renewed. Posted by eku at March 5, 2004 2:10 PM