As Autumn magnificence fades into the melancholy of Winter, we’ve been treated to the most stunning fog here in the coastal reaches. Soft tendrils of grey wrap the landscape, softening hard edges and blurring reality. It’s hard to see which way you are meant to be going. Which is rather apposite, since I find myself wandering in the kind of limbo that only ever afflicts the sure-footed in times of flux.
Poised between two worlds – I’m finalising my affairs in the UK, in preparation for a move to the continent – I feel…fog-bound. Tied to a spiritual sea fret. It’s hard to see which way I’m meant to be going. I find myself in a new reality. All blurry edges and deeply confusing. Of course, I put this down to a mammoth ‘to do’ list which is just on the wrong side of overwhelming. As someone who is very work-orientated, I’m not so good at ‘down time’.
Although changing everything is a big step, it’s no leap of faith. I may not be sure footed at present, but I am sure about the love that beckons like a lightship from across the Channel. Light is the best cure for fog. And love is the best cure for loneliness.
Pier Point 