So a sketch:
Nature red in tooth and claw
I've seen fog roll in, but, usually, it's just there. One moment you're looking at the stars then someone says something, you talk and look up again, and nada. They're gone. You look around, and someone says, “sure is thick.”
It's thick tonight. Pea soup. Cut it with a knife. Can't see your hand. . . . all that shit. It's a love hate thing fog. Sometimes, when all's good, fog's good. But the least little thing . . . scary shit. And when isn't there the least little thing right?
Then there's the sea. Breakers. Love the sound of surf. White noise – put you to sleep. Except if you're on the beach. You ever just lie there listening to the surf? It ain't white noise. Each one is different. They get closer, they move away. They don't sound the same. Man, surf only sounds monotonous when it's not real. Nature. Nature's like that. Crickets? Frogs croaking. Sounds “bucolic” and restful when they're playing William Tell in the background. In the woods, they're just a mask for the more sinister noises that you need to hear and can't quite because of all the din.
Fog is supposed to make things quiet, but it's like the crickets and the frogs, it just masks what you need to hear. The surf too, though, sometimes you need to hear it. Some things are masks and threats. I need to rest. It'll be a long day tomorrow. Stupid. They're all the same length. But it's more energy. That's it. Somedays you need more energy. Not longer, more consuming. Eating away at you. Like waves at a beach. You ever watch a beach cliff recede? I don't know how there's any land left after all these years. Seems like it should all have washed away.
I'm safe here. Should be. Tent's protected from the wind. I'm way above tide line. A little fog, some waves, it's a good thing. Hides me not just them. I really need some rest.
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