Time for Those Foggy Mornings

Every year people complain that winter comes suddenly: there’s Indian summer and then the freezing winds of the Arctic, and you can’t ever really wear your autumn jacket because you’re either too hot or too cold in it. I am coming to think that the famous transition period- probably should be October-never really existed. It’s simply that there is a point in autumn when temperatures rather abruptly plummet and you suddenly decide, right, so from today on I am officially cold. 
 
The up side of this momentous event is that it’s also the start of fog season-but fog is, of course, notoriously fickle-you never know which morning it’s gonna be there, if it’s there, you never know if it’s going to last long enough to make a pretty picture. And it’s not any kind of fog we’re talking about here, but Danube fog, which, even if it’s there, can occasionally play the trick of comfortably floating along the river, like a humid fata morgana. This morning’s fog was, however, the lazy fluffy candyfloss style, just hovering there over the water, feeling quite reluctant about revealing even giant sized buildings such as the Parliament.
 

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