A vagueness comes over everything,
as though proving color and contour
alike dispensable: the lighthouse
extinct, the islands' spruce-tips
drunk up like milk in the
universal emulsion; houses
reverting into the lost
and forgotten; granite
subsumed, a rumor
in a mumble of ocean.
First part of the poem Fog, by Amy Clampitt (1920-1994)
On day 6 of our Holiday in Spain Andalusia, 29th of May 2012, a wall of sea fog came rolling in on us at the coast of Almuñécar. From high on the balcony we could see the fog closing in, surrounding us with tiny drops of the sea.
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| Seen from the balcony of our apartment at Albayzin del Mar, Almuñécar |
