Out in the world at six in the morning, Pita and I find the thuds and clicks of our footsteps soaked up by the condensing vapors. Condensing on my jacket sleeves, not quite to the point of dripping off. Last night’s crystal vision is transformed to a morning murk. Does the world really take form and reality about forty feet in front of us, then melt away as we have moved on?
No souls stir in our neighbors’ streets. A bike light emerges from the south, passing behind us smoothly as we cross the street. No porch lights on among the many apartments surrounding the pond. No nutria or even ducks float on the reflectant surface. Another, brighter light, this one with squeaky brakes as he makes the turn down to the park. A runner, striding long marks the last of the silence before the traffic gates somehow seem to fly up.
Soon two trucks, the snow tired news delivery runabout and autos unworth counting are zipping by. Our heads can duck for now the noisier day begins. The train across town, highway noise and the hiss of steam escaping with industrial fibers slice their ways into our brains. Some fog seems to lift. Sun to be up sooner today than yester, we turn toward home to find breakfast.