🔵 By Tyler Bowman. Photo by lauragrafie.
Silky wisps of sea fog glide gently over shallow waves, clinging briefly to the cool, wet sand. Easing onto the early morning streets of a quiet fishing village, strands of sea fog slither among brick buildings and back alleys, cutting along cobblestones soon to be swarming with rubber-suited fishermen. Further inland, a lone boot lay on its side near a storm drain. The days sun, and its accompanying heat, sears away at the infiltrating misty mass. Seeking cool sanctuary, the floating body falls past the iron bars of the storm drain, into the meandering bowels of the village. One curious little finger of god pauses at the neck of the boot and peers inside. Dark and cool, the boot fills with god from the sea. The rising sun breaks above the villages low story buildings, burning away any struggling moisture. A fisherman walks hurriedly down the cobbles, searching frantically for a lost article of waterproof rubber. Spotting his boot, he scoops it up with a pleased smiloe and slips it on, unaware. The next morning, silky wisps of sea fog glide gently over shallow waves, clinging briefly to the cool, wet sand.