Fog.

I went to Catherine Opie’s exhibition expecting the little things and I found big words. I expected portraits where I found faces. Where I expected white it was mostly blue. Yet, it was quiet, but the noise from the LP exhibition next room was too loud to avoid. I don’t look for Dawns and Sunsets but it went effortless. Then I stopped. I wished I was in there breathing it, immerse in it. Thick, dense fog over the sea, over an almost imperceptible sea. The cold breathing fading into the fog, the silenced eyes. A moment without judgement, no reflections either. One only possible present. Surrounded.

             
                                      Judgement Day