It pools on the ground, faintly obscuring the cobblestones, and swirls in lazy eddies when disturbed by feet.
It does not stop at that, though; it pours over the wall until it's mid-calf height. Sometimes knee-deep. Sometimes you can't see your feet unless it swirls around you in just the right way.
We have learned to be very careful when walking at night.
It's most beautiful in the Carnival District... the lights shimmer through it. Cotton-candy curls. Children love it.
It's a comfort. No matter where I go outside the city, fog always reminds me of home.
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yendi is asleep. The cats are asleep. I remainawake.
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* A story from me.
* Graphics work from zarhooie.
* A custom illustration by swisscheesed.
* A sketch by museumfreak.
And! One-time special offer! The first person after this post to donate $50 gets an item of their choice (hat, scarf, sweater, purse, anything but an afghan) hand-knitted or crocheted by marajs.
Who could pass this up?