Fog

Fog blanketed Vancouver several days last month, throwing everything a fair distance from visual perception behind layers of gray taffeta. People became dark silhouettes, disappeared into the mist, sometimes reappearing right next to you. Their features and faces faded away but their shapes remained, bobbing up and down slightly as they walked but rendering their direction -- coming or going -- impossible to tell. You had to concentrate and put and mental bead on them or else you'd lose track.

Everyone shuffled along like hooded monks to evensong.

After dark a foghorn sounds off-campus at regular intervals, and images of creaky hulls and sailor skeletons come to mind. Not a time for the superstitious. Breathing lungfuls of moist air, you can imagine the same droplets being exhaled from someone else, either still with us or already passed.

Trees stood out from their copses and outgrew their mosses.

Here are some pictures, like scenes from a zombie movie: