Bus Report #925
The kind of fog where you wonder if the problem is actually your eyes, because everything appears blurry in soft focus and you can't see more than a half a block ahead of you.
The side streets off of Clement were thick with low-hanging, cottony fog, Karl in full force, rolling down the block, alive.
On the bus we climbed Ashbury and Clayton and were completely enveloped in the heavy, grey stuff.
The view from Upper Market of the rest of the city? Obscured so that it felt as though we were alone, just the dozen or so of us in our little metal box.
Just beautiful. Our summer fog is here. And I am delighted.