Morning mist is rolling in from the shore, the remnants of a rainy summer night. Elusive, yet being so close that one can nearly touch it. The sun finally breaks through, clearing up the mist into vapour, and it is gone, the remembrance of the night’s thunderstorm. Mist, the symbol of the unclear, the undiscovered, out of which discovery is born. Does it still hold any mysteries? Continue reading The Mysteries of Fog