October 21, 2019

‘FOG’/acrylic on canvas


By Arthur H. Gunther III

Fog — le brouillard — particularly if  it comes on the broad expanse of L’Avenue des Champs-Élysées — is not merely mist in the air from a temperature change. It envelopes, and so you can be alone with your thoughts even in the crowd. Romantics savor such an envelope.

     But isn’t it the same in London, on the Waterloo Bridge, or in the East Village of New York on Bowery Street? Or in the majestic mountains anywhere in the world? Or in your backyard? Being alone so you can travel in a dream is one of fog’s blessings.

The writer is a retired newspaperman.


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