this morning i walked out the front door to a very foggy hazenstraat. it was gorgeous. i love foggy mornings, always have. when i was a kid, the fog would drift over the valley and sink – specifically into the upper field across lincoln creek road from our farm. i loved it.
when i got to my bike, chained on the lauriergracht bridge, i saw that i’d had a friend visit with a present sometime between last night and this morning, but i don’t know where he (or she) went… not under the seat, not under the straps of my saddle bags.