It was a chilly 11 degrees Celsius when I left the house yesterday morning, and I will admit to feeling a faint pang of regret about not having stayed in bed instead. I noticed the fog, low on the ground, as I walked toward the bus-stop. I wondered how long it would take to lift, but uppermost in my mind was that I had to find a place to enjoy it.
I guess I’m like a homing pigeon, always ending up at the same place, but what’s the point of being in Sydney if I can’t enjoy the sights, even when they’re engulfed in fog?
This post is quite the contrast to the last one, isn’t it? I went from feeling darkest of dark (it seemed to descend quite heavily last week) to mighty light. I can’t guarantee that the latter will prevail, but I suppose we shall see.