This is the best surviving picture of last night’s walk through the fog. Lately, there have been quite a lot of foggy days, and I love taking routes that differ from my everyday commute. If I have the time, I try and get deliberately lost. And I explore this new, other city in which everything is transformed. Far away objects have often vanished completely, while distances between you and the things that remain are impossible to judge. Noises are softened, yet you encounter sudden weird intense bursts of smell: pine resin, petrol, rotting leaves. It’s like walking through a dream, or a surrealist painting. You start to expect some strange beast behind every corner. Maybe my personal favourite city monster, the petricore (that you can recognize by its scent like wet asphalt). But the atmosphere, so radically different from the waking day-city that envelops you on your way to work, is impossible to capture in a photograph.
I don’t drive. However, I use driver’s hand signals to communicate with them. Whenever a car stops to let me cross, I raise the hand to them that isn’t holding the bag of books or TARDIS travel mug to say thankyou. I don’t ever see other pedestrians do this. I think I got this from my dad, watching him drive, and I thought this was a nice way of showing respect and appreciation.