Fog is not only something that impairs your vision physically, what about spiritually? What about mentally. There’s a reason that it’s used in some many analogies or metaphors. Fog is an amazing phenomena, and it’s perfct for describing exactly how we percieve reality sometimes.
Bryan
The fog is dense. You cannot see. But what is it blocking, exactly? What are you trying to see? Is it the fog, or are you blocking out the picture?
Adrianna
my eyes cannot see through the blanket. the mist that envelopes me into a mystery. life becomes mere shadows, and i do not like the things I see. I am scared unable to see you. I take your hand, and led me through this.
Mel
Fog is like a brain veil.
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Fog blanketed the hills above the city of San Francisco. City lights glowed below as they sat up on Telegraph hill and talked about their plans to breakup. How about I move my stuff outa yourpl
Lisa Marie Peaslee
Literature uses fog as a sign of evil, haunting, foreboding. I see it as friendly clouds who bent from above to say hello.
Rae
fog is in san francisco sofg is what i feel in my head i think fog on little cat’s feet is nice – and very full of meaning we do not have much fog in texas so i do not have much involvement with it – fog is soft and nice and sweet to some in the mornings nice to feel the moisture and feel the wet come in you and cover your eyes
nancy
A light layer of water hanging above the world’s scenery. Droplets held together in the sky. Drifting softly at the knees of all.
Kate
The fog made it almost impossible to see my fiance at shore. The boat was so close to land…when
CRASH.
SPLASH.
Darkness.
Katrina
My mother spoke of the fog is New Orleans, rolling in from the river in the early days of 1979, the coffee creating it’s own cloud of moisture to compete with nature. I was there, but in her belly.
Rachel J
The smoke was thick like fog. It hung over the neighborhood. We couldn’t believe that the buildings were gone. Landmarks, undeniable in our skyline. Gone. And the fog that would remain for weeks to remind us of the horror.
tango
The fog is a constant reminder to me of the unknown. The father you travel and the deeper you envelope yourself in it, the more you realize hardships. Looking back you find yourself completely embraced by it; there’s no escape except to move forward.
Camila Frey-Booth
i love it, but not driving in it. just sitting at the beach maybe driving below it aas it settles on to the trees…above. it is sexy. imaginative. creative. and beautriful
melissa korff
Grey and creeping, damply wrapping itself around my face, caressing my skin, twining itself in my hair and muffling all sounds around me, making my day small and narrow and softly eerie, whitish tendrils surrounding me.
Branwen
misty and grey. cool and gives sense of freedom. freedom in being hidden. hidden from the world. covering your indelicacies and insecurities. become the fog and become the world. a part of it all. a part of everything. and everything becomes the one. the people are a part of it all.
sarah faup
the fog was rolling in, and there was nothing we could do about it. humanity was destined to live in a haze of forgetfulness. people would soon forget how to write, and soon speech would follow. these were dark times, indeed. all of our hopes and dreams were focused on someone still living to turn on a light somewhere.
chris ahrens
Driving through clouds, low enough to touch and breathe them in.
Concetta
It lets you hide, a sense of defense. like when its around no one can see. no one can see you, and its brilliant. To be able to hide and not be noticed amidst the chaos. Your time, space shared with everyone, yet alone
Natasha
the monsoons are here and so is the blurriness of the never ending fog, it gets so dark morbid and sad with the whole look of rain. though its not always a bad deal, a coffee ciggi and fog is always a great deal and of course a joint later on.
naz
Fog surrounded the hilltop like a thick smoky blanket, ominous in nature and yet mysteriously inviting. He sped towards it, bracing himself for his last breath. He knew what he had to face, and was ready to fight until his last breath.
Amanda
The wind was dead and the heavens settled low, until a thick pea-soup fog shrouded the bay. Ships anchored helpless, even their sonar useless against the mysterious fog. It couldn’t be penetrated with the senses, radar, and the government’s infrared capabilities were rendered impotent.
“I know what it is,” simon said.
“What is it?” Carl
John Miller
Fog – that’s what surrounds my brain sometimes. Absolute fog. But when I manage to penetrate it – there is brilliance there. I enjoy moving through the fog to the bright sunlight. It’s like coming out of the pass on the free way and entering into the Palm Springs Valley. The bright light and brilliance are incredible.
Trudi
fog covered the background and tore up the middle of the streets. Moving swiftly where speed was slow and time was the lost commodity. How fog moved before the people it witheld.
Helen
its a cold night, and i can’t see through the fog that is laying over the street, and over my mind. i wish it would clear, but i don’t see any end in sight. i can’t stop thinking about him. i cant see anything, and the street is a blur of white and cold.
nicole
it was a foggy night and the mountains were barley visible. But the fog brought the good fairies and the helped build rental cabins on the side of the mountains so all could see……for a fee.
chris
Rolling in off the sea,
so bright, no dull.. smoky.
Can we see through it?
go around about it?
we can drift through,
this swirling shade of blue.
It’s darking and cold
like a basement covered with mold.
Can you find my hand to hold?
we’ll make it through this icky bog,
but enjoy our time together in this fog.
Red Rosaleigh
foggy was the summer that trees trembled with an accurate perspective of their own.
i wish i had more dreams to see far through the fog.
some of me
a dark unseeing blob of vapor that encases and embraces, leaving a little dew on your cheek.
Misty Evans
The fog is thick and gloomy here in london. Another day of cold wet lungs and cigarettes. Might as well just set the house on fire but this is much more exciting. I remember as a child I would go out on foggy days and play games with the girl who lived next door.
Amanda
Thickly blanketing Cool greyness
Masking all but the largest features
Fog’s beauty blurring my world
Heather Jackson
It was cool, this early in the morning, and the sun had only been up a few minutes. Eventually, it would warm the sky and burn off the clouds that lay thickly all over the world around them. They drove through the greyness and she watched the way it blanketed the slight valleys below them.
Heather Jackson
on a dreary morning in Charleston I could hear the low bellow of the fog horns floating across the harbor. The sound immediately takes my mind to a different time when the streets of Charleston were filled with the sound of horses hooves and cries from the market place. In the misty morning fog one could almost see the city come alive across the harbor from Mt. Pleasant with the spirits of Charleston past.
Lara Byrns
Gray, dense entity that smears my vision with cloudiness, wearing at my senses and causing unwanted and relentless winces.
s. mitch
It is gray, and ever so blinding when you have to stare at it for hours on end. When I look into the fog, I see a black dot, it is a floater in my eye. I cannot get rid of this dot, and it annoys me when I look around. How depressing it is to be fogged in. So Depressing.
Nicholas Kelley
The fog comes down like some kind of horror movie – where did that image come from? Probably the horror movie “The Fog” by John Carpenter, remade again just a few years ago – naturally in a vastly inferior version. Movies often come to mind before anything else when I engage in these sorts of exercises – perhaps as an indication of how thoroughly they sit at the very front of mind.
bob
The fog was heavy and thick. I’ve hated it ever since I was a child. It kind of makes you feel a s though your blind. Its suffocating and frightening.
Nwamaka
One sound,
one feel,
one breath
misty;
only one
in the fog.
Prarthana
The hazy night could have happened anywhere but this wasnt anywhere this was my town, my street, my life. To much fog is never a good thing and this night would be no different. The lights were seen far to late and the crash was far to loud, the blood was far to red, the death was far to dead. I wish I could go back and do it different, say goodbye, say I love you, see the lights, release the fog that still clouds my mind.
Crystal
One word
One heart
One mind
One being
One world
One.
Prarthana
it’s grey, and wet…. am i writing about the word fog? or am I writing about something I read before the word fog?
I’m listening to jazz right now, and all i can focus on is writing about the word fog, how do you not think about what you are writing?
i think i’m done
I bet I can write for longer than 60 seconds. it’s done at 60 and i’m still typing.
Fog is not only something that impairs your vision physically, what about spiritually? What about mentally. There’s a reason that it’s used in some many analogies or metaphors. Fog is an amazing phenomena, and it’s perfct for describing exactly how we percieve reality sometimes.
The fog is dense. You cannot see. But what is it blocking, exactly? What are you trying to see? Is it the fog, or are you blocking out the picture?
my eyes cannot see through the blanket. the mist that envelopes me into a mystery. life becomes mere shadows, and i do not like the things I see. I am scared unable to see you. I take your hand, and led me through this.
Fog is like a brain veil.
Fog blanketed the hills above the city of San Francisco. City lights glowed below as they sat up on Telegraph hill and talked about their plans to breakup. How about I move my stuff outa yourpl
Literature uses fog as a sign of evil, haunting, foreboding. I see it as friendly clouds who bent from above to say hello.
fog is in san francisco sofg is what i feel in my head i think fog on little cat’s feet is nice – and very full of meaning we do not have much fog in texas so i do not have much involvement with it – fog is soft and nice and sweet to some in the mornings nice to feel the moisture and feel the wet come in you and cover your eyes
A light layer of water hanging above the world’s scenery. Droplets held together in the sky. Drifting softly at the knees of all.
The fog made it almost impossible to see my fiance at shore. The boat was so close to land…when
CRASH.
SPLASH.
Darkness.
My mother spoke of the fog is New Orleans, rolling in from the river in the early days of 1979, the coffee creating it’s own cloud of moisture to compete with nature. I was there, but in her belly.
The smoke was thick like fog. It hung over the neighborhood. We couldn’t believe that the buildings were gone. Landmarks, undeniable in our skyline. Gone. And the fog that would remain for weeks to remind us of the horror.
The fog is a constant reminder to me of the unknown. The father you travel and the deeper you envelope yourself in it, the more you realize hardships. Looking back you find yourself completely embraced by it; there’s no escape except to move forward.
i love it, but not driving in it. just sitting at the beach maybe driving below it aas it settles on to the trees…above. it is sexy. imaginative. creative. and beautriful
Grey and creeping, damply wrapping itself around my face, caressing my skin, twining itself in my hair and muffling all sounds around me, making my day small and narrow and softly eerie, whitish tendrils surrounding me.
misty and grey. cool and gives sense of freedom. freedom in being hidden. hidden from the world. covering your indelicacies and insecurities. become the fog and become the world. a part of it all. a part of everything. and everything becomes the one. the people are a part of it all.
the fog was rolling in, and there was nothing we could do about it. humanity was destined to live in a haze of forgetfulness. people would soon forget how to write, and soon speech would follow. these were dark times, indeed. all of our hopes and dreams were focused on someone still living to turn on a light somewhere.
Driving through clouds, low enough to touch and breathe them in.
It lets you hide, a sense of defense. like when its around no one can see. no one can see you, and its brilliant. To be able to hide and not be noticed amidst the chaos. Your time, space shared with everyone, yet alone
the monsoons are here and so is the blurriness of the never ending fog, it gets so dark morbid and sad with the whole look of rain. though its not always a bad deal, a coffee ciggi and fog is always a great deal and of course a joint later on.
Fog surrounded the hilltop like a thick smoky blanket, ominous in nature and yet mysteriously inviting. He sped towards it, bracing himself for his last breath. He knew what he had to face, and was ready to fight until his last breath.
The wind was dead and the heavens settled low, until a thick pea-soup fog shrouded the bay. Ships anchored helpless, even their sonar useless against the mysterious fog. It couldn’t be penetrated with the senses, radar, and the government’s infrared capabilities were rendered impotent.
“I know what it is,” simon said.
“What is it?” Carl
Fog – that’s what surrounds my brain sometimes. Absolute fog. But when I manage to penetrate it – there is brilliance there. I enjoy moving through the fog to the bright sunlight. It’s like coming out of the pass on the free way and entering into the Palm Springs Valley. The bright light and brilliance are incredible.
fog covered the background and tore up the middle of the streets. Moving swiftly where speed was slow and time was the lost commodity. How fog moved before the people it witheld.
its a cold night, and i can’t see through the fog that is laying over the street, and over my mind. i wish it would clear, but i don’t see any end in sight. i can’t stop thinking about him. i cant see anything, and the street is a blur of white and cold.
it was a foggy night and the mountains were barley visible. But the fog brought the good fairies and the helped build rental cabins on the side of the mountains so all could see……for a fee.
Rolling in off the sea,
so bright, no dull.. smoky.
Can we see through it?
go around about it?
we can drift through,
this swirling shade of blue.
It’s darking and cold
like a basement covered with mold.
Can you find my hand to hold?
we’ll make it through this icky bog,
but enjoy our time together in this fog.
foggy was the summer that trees trembled with an accurate perspective of their own.
i wish i had more dreams to see far through the fog.
a dark unseeing blob of vapor that encases and embraces, leaving a little dew on your cheek.
The fog is thick and gloomy here in london. Another day of cold wet lungs and cigarettes. Might as well just set the house on fire but this is much more exciting. I remember as a child I would go out on foggy days and play games with the girl who lived next door.
Thickly blanketing Cool greyness
Masking all but the largest features
Fog’s beauty blurring my world
It was cool, this early in the morning, and the sun had only been up a few minutes. Eventually, it would warm the sky and burn off the clouds that lay thickly all over the world around them. They drove through the greyness and she watched the way it blanketed the slight valleys below them.
on a dreary morning in Charleston I could hear the low bellow of the fog horns floating across the harbor. The sound immediately takes my mind to a different time when the streets of Charleston were filled with the sound of horses hooves and cries from the market place. In the misty morning fog one could almost see the city come alive across the harbor from Mt. Pleasant with the spirits of Charleston past.
Gray, dense entity that smears my vision with cloudiness, wearing at my senses and causing unwanted and relentless winces.
It is gray, and ever so blinding when you have to stare at it for hours on end. When I look into the fog, I see a black dot, it is a floater in my eye. I cannot get rid of this dot, and it annoys me when I look around. How depressing it is to be fogged in. So Depressing.
The fog comes down like some kind of horror movie – where did that image come from? Probably the horror movie “The Fog” by John Carpenter, remade again just a few years ago – naturally in a vastly inferior version. Movies often come to mind before anything else when I engage in these sorts of exercises – perhaps as an indication of how thoroughly they sit at the very front of mind.
The fog was heavy and thick. I’ve hated it ever since I was a child. It kind of makes you feel a s though your blind. Its suffocating and frightening.
One sound,
one feel,
one breath
misty;
only one
in the fog.
The hazy night could have happened anywhere but this wasnt anywhere this was my town, my street, my life. To much fog is never a good thing and this night would be no different. The lights were seen far to late and the crash was far to loud, the blood was far to red, the death was far to dead. I wish I could go back and do it different, say goodbye, say I love you, see the lights, release the fog that still clouds my mind.
One word
One heart
One mind
One being
One world
One.
it’s grey, and wet…. am i writing about the word fog? or am I writing about something I read before the word fog?
I’m listening to jazz right now, and all i can focus on is writing about the word fog, how do you not think about what you are writing?
i think i’m done
I bet I can write for longer than 60 seconds. it’s done at 60 and i’m still typing.
what do you think about that?