Tuesday, February 13, 2007
The Fog (or how to know you're dying slowly from the elements)
The white cloud stops us. It is too thick, wraps us like a chenile blanket, little whisps of chenile sticking to our skin, caught in our hair. We hug the blanket to us because it's all we have. We love the blanket. Cool against our cool skin. This white, white blanket.