DC has the most spectacular mornings, i swear.
everyday i step out of my house in the morning for the walk to the bus stop, it makes me feel like the day will be a good day (not counting the two or three days it’s been raining – but even that has it’s certain charms). this area, because it’s basically a swamp – even more so than Manhattan – puts on these visual tricks with some of the most comfortable and lazy haze you’ll ever feel caressing your cheeks, soon to be blown away by the slight breezes that manage to get lost at the Chesapeake, only to sweep down into the basin.
and this wonderful mist can portray so many different emotions – for example, the abject ferocity of the gods. ever seen the exorcist? the way that the fog surrounds karras as he approaches the hellacious house? the house and stairs with which the mist cloaks in mysteriousness are in georgetown, about a fifteen minute drive from my house. (and really, i need to get out and see this landmark of horror cinema, if only to indulge the fanboy inside.)
but this morning, the mist was a sublime thing to wake up to. the trees in my neighborhood cutting out parts of the sunlight, so that my walk was filled with the intermittent slices of warmth, letting me know that in a few steps my skin would be heated ever-so-slightly, but not so much as a hair over the comfy temperature of 65. now i know what dogs feel like when they nip at the wind as it blows through their hair outside of a moving car window. DC’s morning mist, oh so dewy sweet.
the bus was forty minutes late, but i didn’t mind.
days like today are too short for such trivial matters.