A foggy morning in London


 

It was early morning on Sunday November 1st. It was Halloween the night before and my big plan for the day was to sleep in. No alarms, blinds shut. I got out of bed to get some water and, on my way back to my enjoyable slumber, I decided to peek outside. As I pulled the blinds to the side, this beautiful layer of fog appeared, covering the entire street. I could barely see the streetlights and the cars parked nearby. The first thought that came to my mind was: "I've been waiting for this day for a while!"

I rushed to my camera, checked the batteries and memory card. All good. Within minutes I was on my bike, cycling toward the Thames. I wasn't sure what to expect or what my destination was, but I knew it had to be along the river. The streets were mostly quiet, but some people were waiting by bus stops in their costumes from last night. It was all about the slow, dreaded commute now. I was trying to cycle as fast as I could before the fog receded too much. By matter of habit, I ended up at the Queen's Walk near London Bridge.

As I approached the riverbank, a feeling of calm took over me. Although I was there to take some much-anticipated photos, I had to spend some time walking along the river, pausing, re-centring, re-focusing, healing. You'll be familiar with this feeling if you've ever walked through the mist on a late spring night in the mountains. There's something special about walking through usually busy areas when no one else is around. It's as if you're bonding with the place, getting to know it on a more intimate level. It's as if the place is getting to know you.

A short while had passed before I reached Tower Bridge. The sight was just breathtaking. I had seen this bridge so many times, from near and far. I had walked and cycled on it. But this was not like any other time. The bridge was standing there behind the fog as if staring at me from another time or another universe. Perhaps the bridge was the way there. Eileena, a barge docked just in front of me, anchored me to reality. This was it, the photo I'd been looking for. A composition of the present and the past, the real and the imaginary.