Images, Emotion and Fog

Last night I dreamt about fog.  I was hiking along a road bordered on either side by a waist-high sea of slender, brilliantly green grass.  I had two companions walking with me in the comfortable silence that is the trademark of minds who are completely peaceful in each other's company. We wandered from the road - taking different paths, but staying within sight of each other - and the grass whispered and sprang back up behind us, un-bent.  It felt soft and gave slightly under my feet.

Then the fog rolled in, as quick as an ocean wave rushing towards shore.  It was as thick as the grass and completely white.  It enveloped me till all I could see was that soft white, my own hands, and the green beneath my feet.  Although we tried to find each other by calling out and following voices, there was no sense of urgency - and the fog and grass silenced everything but our voices.

Then the whiteness ebbed - moving on as quickly as it had arrived - and I woke up.

These pictures reminded me of that dream, which, in its whimsical softness and melancholy, had hidden somewhere in my brain from the harsh, bright reality of morning.

I salute these dark-room photographers, and the emotions invoked by the images they captured, created, and shared.