I straddled a series of small explosions as I traversed a great glittering channel of crushed stone and tar, grey surfaced and stretching seemingly to infinity. The black cloud above towered over the stretching landscape and dominated the horizon with a looming shadow of darkened prestige. Keep churning, my favorite combustion engine, keep churning to fuel my path through this bustling collection of monolithic towers and wire infrastructure. I could not comprehend the complete dissection of the world before me, and I felt an almost animal repulsion to the immediate surroundings. These structures were built for our own comfort to move on this planet, and they only served to frighten and bewilder me to an aloof state of daydream. Red lights bleeding vertically past the peripheral, perpendicular to the horizantally-stretching surface I moved across. The light retreats back into itself and sharpens into a perfect sphere. Oh, brakelights. And Death approached my door and rapped on the glass with his bleached-white knucle bones; his exposed jaw was twisted in a seemingly wry grin, and he turned and left into the black cloud above. And the forces of gravity and friction kicked in to stop the moving mass before it could be reformed into an accidental work of art.
Human beings are incredible. And I don't want to be a part of them either.
If the greatest human fear is fear of the unknown, and if an enveloping fog is the bringer of the unknown, then logic would have it that fog tows fear with the deliberation and power of a two car freight train.
Beauty sometimes precedes the wall of terror that is panic.
And fog is beauty.
-The Piece
