Walking out of work this afternoon, I looked up and saw great roiling streaks of dirty white skulking low across the city skyline, so close they were buffeting against the office towers (I know Melbourne’s a big city, but even still the term ‘skyscraper’ just seems a little too generous)
My first thought was that something big had caught fire, but a scan around revealed that it wasn’t rising from the ground but hovering low: it was mist. This wasn’t the normal, average mist, mind, that kind of wispy, half-hearted bumfuzz of the sky you normally get that can be dispelled by an enthusiastically farting bumblebee; this was big mist, real mist, the kind of can make any location suddenly feel unreal in the best way. It’s still going on now; our otherwise unremarkable suburban street looks like a Hammer horror film just landed on it, and I like it.
It’s funny, every time I start feeling like this city’s hellbent on kicking me in the gob until I go away, something comes along that reminds me why I like this place.