I think I must have been born on a foggy day. My soul is peaceful there. It feels like the one place where the world is larger yet more intimate. Mysterious but safe. And there are no words in the fog. Within the veil. They simply don’t belong. I can hear my breathing, but that’s it. Even my thoughts stay quiet. There is no room for reasoning or whining or conclusions of any kind. Maybe I am born on every foggy day.