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 I love taking night walks – especially on the not so brightly lit streets in my neighborhood. 

Yesterday in the dense fog, houses, trees, plants, cars, fences, stairs, everything is shifting shape by the second as the fog wafts uphill, softening lines and sounds. Mystery is lingering in the night’s silent and moist air. A deer mama and her baby startle me and I startle them, after a few motionless seconds, we walk our ways. As I turn the corner, a bundled up figure faintly appears in the distance. First standing still, then stumbling a bit. I am keeping my rhythm uphill, but am on high alert now. Very heavy fog is blowing through the steep street. Coming closer I see smoke emanating from the figure's face. A tiny light glimmers, is it a cigarette? The guy or girl – can’t tell – takes a couple of steps into my direction, catches herself, corrects course. Suddenly, I am surrounded by a whiff of cannabis. Relieved I chuckle to myself. The whiff becomes a cloud through which I glide for the next 15 to 20 steps, very strong stuff :) The foggy Saturday night is shape shifting with each turn, each step, each breath. Or is it me shape shifting? From tiger to fox to fairy wand. The pace brisk, my feet are hugging the asphalt softly through thin shoe soles, my heart in sink – full.

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