The sound of footsteps in the mist is different everywhere - San Fransisco footsteps aren't at all like Amsterdam footsteps or Victoria footsteps. The concrete, cobbles and footwear all conspire.
Pondside - I think it is also something to do with the mist itself. When London had really thick 'peasoupers' you could hardly even hear footsteps.
Bonnie - Other realities come closest in dreams or when we run a fever; there are times when I am sure that there are 'footsteps' echoing in parallel realities, I am so very aware of them.
Eine unglaublich schöne Kombination von Wort und Bild. Ich lasse Dir ganz liebe Frühlingsgrüße da liebe Ursula, viel Sonne, Regen nur nachts und auch sonst alles, was das Herz begehrt wünsche ich Dir,
Lovely poem and the perfect picture!
ReplyDeleteThe sound of footsteps in the mist is different everywhere - San Fransisco footsteps aren't at all like Amsterdam footsteps or Victoria footsteps. The concrete, cobbles and footwear all conspire.
ReplyDeleteI love writings that point to the possibility of other realities than the one obvious to us - - and that we are convinced is the only one.
ReplyDeleteVicki Lane - thank you Vicki
ReplyDeletePondside - I think it is also something to do with the mist itself. When London had really thick 'peasoupers' you could hardly even hear footsteps.
Bonnie - Other realities come closest in dreams or when we run a fever; there are times when I am sure that there are 'footsteps' echoing in parallel realities, I am so very aware of them.
Like birdsong in the trees. You can hear them, you know the direction of where they're coming from, but can you see them ..... well can you?
ReplyDeletefriko i love the space you create with this photograph and these words. i love it! steven
ReplyDelete'Where nothing is real but the mist.' Fab.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely gift you have shared to stir the imagination and the lure of the other places to be explored.
ReplyDeleteFog and mist to me are such a reprieve and rarely seen this time of year.
ReplyDeletemollygolver - I can still see them but only while the leaves are still unfurling.
ReplyDeletesteven - thank you steven.
Fran - you too Fran, thank you so much
Cloudhands - If that is so I am very glad and you are very welcome.
Tabor - we have early morning mists after a cold night before the sun lifts the softness and dissolves it with her warmth.
Sorry about that. Silly typo.
ReplyDeleteI really like this poem. Any idea as to when the photograph was taken?
Ah, no wonder you read poetry.
ReplyDeleteMartin H - I've asked the photographer, he thinks he probably took it in the 50s in Glasgow.
ReplyDeleteDeborah - You like? (I've gone mad and started a poetry and pictures blog)
Eine unglaublich schöne Kombination von Wort und Bild. Ich lasse Dir ganz liebe Frühlingsgrüße da liebe Ursula, viel Sonne, Regen nur nachts und auch sonst alles, was das Herz begehrt wünsche ich Dir,
ReplyDeleteIsabella
veredit - na, dann kann ja nichts mehr passieren. danke fuer die lieben Gruesse.
ReplyDelete