I got up and stumbled out of the tent. Everyone else was still asleep, though the sun was rising. I decided to walk down to the lake. A damp mist clung in the air, like a blanket.
in the mountains mist the figure appears, towering, large and vibrant. in its gray majesty, accented with its frozen white friend. the mountain mist suffocates my lungs, and leaves me to know how life really feels.
I love to take a plunge on the mist in the early morning . Mists usually occurs after the break of dawn when the sun is about to shine. They are also called the morning dew that drips on the leaves and grass tips in the form of water.
Immediately, I think of the old Mac game “Myst.” My dad and brother are writing a book, as well, that includes fog and mist as a means to reconnect to Father God. I took a picture this year with some INCREDIBLE mist. it was in the early morning.
It came in overnight like a silk stocking pulled over the nubile thigh of an eighteen year old. She was walking into my office on top of the hill. The night was just like that: a Sandberg poem around every corner. And this was San Francisco in the late 70s.
The mist swept down from the hills and blanketed the lane in a bed of down feathers. I could no longer see my feet through the wispy tendrils as they intertwined, swirling up my legs and binding with the fabric of my clothes. I found myself rooted to the spot, getting colder as the mist seeped into my body and froze the blood in my veins…
O boy when the squirdues went over to the wopplins – all manner of durblindun came off – what shots whit wendling was wassail ! how dorbklib went the rainguns – and we all sang to the final wansul – barring all sairries
The morning mist surrounded your face but your blue eyes were bright enough that they shone through the cloudiness. Thank God for those eyes. The first ray of hope that all would be fine today.
falling softly, silently, in exotic curls, drifting across the lonely country lane as the light fades and the sun finally sinks leaving the sky flushed with a ruby glow. Will O the wisp, the between times creatures, dancing ethereally in the heady late summer dusk, the ripe colours of the coming autumn fading to a ghostly monochrome….
I’m choosing ‘Myst’ instead. Anybody recall that game? I never played it, just knew it was something grown ups played, because it wasn’t shooting zombies, explosive barrels, or guys with shotguns – it was a bunch of reading and clue solving. Later on, I read wikipedia to try to figure out what all the fuss was about, and from the looks of it, it looked pretty damn good, but I ruined it because I now know the ending. It’s like seeing all your xmas presents the day before.
The mist is such a dilusion of sorts.
Hiding the truth that lies behind it.
Hot or cold as steam or the eary morning dew.
Its subtley is beautiful.
But yet… mysterious?
It was early morning and there was mist enveloping the world in mystery and danger. Why doesn’t the mist lift? It’s been seven days now that the world has been enveloped in mist, with no letup.
Gorillas! I can’t remember what Gorillas in the Mist is… oh yeah, American Dad! I wish to god there were more episodes for me to watch. That show lightens my heart like you wouldn’t believe. It’s witty, smart, and has absolutely no connection to real life whatsoever. Just makes fun of it all. Love it. Gorillas. In. The. Mist.
The mist of her beauty had clouded my eyes. I couldn’t see anymore, the fog had gotten to thick and there was no where to run to. I had to face it, I had to take it, it was my destiny.
A frozen kiss clouding up my window. I breathe on to evaporate; it comes back worse. I write my name in the misted pane. Cool steam. It blurs the air, takes back breath and chokes it. It hangs like a hundred kept tears, hidden away, murmured back into eyes, into some vague vapour circling inside, into the heart, cloudy and opaque with longing.
The mist in the air was thick, and our vision limited, but I’m telling you, we saw what I think had to be bigfoot. If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I could have sworn the animal resembled my mother in law.
It all comes together at once, emerging from the mist of the city. We all think sometimes that the world would go on, but when every eye was watching the last moment in time, we had no fear. Rather, we felt relieved. Even those who didn’t know God felt the purity to which all was returning.
It all comes together at once, emerging from the mist of the city. We all think sometimes that the world would go on, but we ever eye was watching the last moment in time, we had no fear. Rather, we felt relieved. Even those who didn’t know God felt the purity to which all was returning.
I look around and I try and find her again. I know I’ve seen her again, but things are different now. I still feel a jump, a little kick, but it’s not like before. I know my heart will always love her somehow, just not like before.
That mist has settled, we are no longer whom we were.
the first thing you see when you approach the clearing that leads to the canyon, is a display of butterfly wings that create a psychedelic mist that projects a luminescence from the backdrop of the morning sun.
The Mists of Avalon was one of my favorite books. I enjoyed the re-telling of the Arthurian legend and most everything else about the book. I did not like her other books as well. Now that I am older I don’t know what my reaction to the book would be. Tastes change with age.
Through the mist i could just make out the broader details. I knew it was a woman, with long flowing hair. The curves of her hips and full bust told me so. Other than her silhouette all i could see were two piercing green eyes. Who was she? Why had she called me here?
The early morning mist was thick and clung to Andrea’s skin making it slick and damp. The early morning run was proving to be more laborious than she had anticipated as she climbed steadily up the hill.
“In the mist… Mist? What mist am I talking about? I do not understand. Let me check the dictionary… Oh. I meant midst. Okay in the midst of all this confusion… No, that did not seem appropriate. I have to find a better word…”
and it rolled in with no warning
taking everything and hiding it
taking the familiar and erasing it
making me the animal
and her the saint
when that’s not at all how i remember it
Es riecht nach Mist. nach faulem Stroh, Kuhfladen, Pisse. Der hahn sitzt auf dem Haufen, der eben aus dem Stall gehoben wurde und kräht. Kratzig und müde. Der Mist stinkt. Der Gestank brennt in den Augen, es ist zu heiß. Die Augen tränen, Salz brennt auf der Haut. Mir wird schlecht, der Mist stinkt, der Gestank brennt in den Augen, die Augen tränen, mir wird schlecht. So ein Mist.
In the mist of all the confusion, we learned that the driver of the car involved in the accident , was trying to flee the scene of the incident and struck an oncoming vehicle.
everything is mist right now, no path is clear, all is ambiguous, there is nothing and no one in life to trust or understand and no option but to surrender to being in the fog
i can only think of the hidden village of the mist right now. and probably the mist that will form after the buckets of rain stop pouring. Misty from pokemon is pretty cool
I got up and stumbled out of the tent. Everyone else was still asleep, though the sun was rising. I decided to walk down to the lake. A damp mist clung in the air, like a blanket.
in the mountains mist the figure appears, towering, large and vibrant. in its gray majesty, accented with its frozen white friend. the mountain mist suffocates my lungs, and leaves me to know how life really feels.
“There’s no rain in that”, he said, as he came inside from the mist of the cloud that hung low over the valley. “But it is certainly wet!”
I love to take a plunge on the mist in the early morning . Mists usually occurs after the break of dawn when the sun is about to shine. They are also called the morning dew that drips on the leaves and grass tips in the form of water.
Immediately, I think of the old Mac game “Myst.” My dad and brother are writing a book, as well, that includes fog and mist as a means to reconnect to Father God. I took a picture this year with some INCREDIBLE mist. it was in the early morning.
It came in overnight like a silk stocking pulled over the nubile thigh of an eighteen year old. She was walking into my office on top of the hill. The night was just like that: a Sandberg poem around every corner. And this was San Francisco in the late 70s.
The mist swept down from the hills and blanketed the lane in a bed of down feathers. I could no longer see my feet through the wispy tendrils as they intertwined, swirling up my legs and binding with the fabric of my clothes. I found myself rooted to the spot, getting colder as the mist seeped into my body and froze the blood in my veins…
O boy when the squirdues went over to the wopplins – all manner of durblindun came off – what shots whit wendling was wassail ! how dorbklib went the rainguns – and we all sang to the final wansul – barring all sairries
The morning mist surrounded your face but your blue eyes were bright enough that they shone through the cloudiness. Thank God for those eyes. The first ray of hope that all would be fine today.
falling softly, silently, in exotic curls, drifting across the lonely country lane as the light fades and the sun finally sinks leaving the sky flushed with a ruby glow. Will O the wisp, the between times creatures, dancing ethereally in the heady late summer dusk, the ripe colours of the coming autumn fading to a ghostly monochrome….
I’m choosing ‘Myst’ instead. Anybody recall that game? I never played it, just knew it was something grown ups played, because it wasn’t shooting zombies, explosive barrels, or guys with shotguns – it was a bunch of reading and clue solving. Later on, I read wikipedia to try to figure out what all the fuss was about, and from the looks of it, it looked pretty damn good, but I ruined it because I now know the ending. It’s like seeing all your xmas presents the day before.
The mist is such a dilusion of sorts.
Hiding the truth that lies behind it.
Hot or cold as steam or the eary morning dew.
Its subtley is beautiful.
But yet… mysterious?
It was early morning and there was mist enveloping the world in mystery and danger. Why doesn’t the mist lift? It’s been seven days now that the world has been enveloped in mist, with no letup.
Not quite an illusion for you know behind the mist the truth is there to be found.
Gorillas! I can’t remember what Gorillas in the Mist is… oh yeah, American Dad! I wish to god there were more episodes for me to watch. That show lightens my heart like you wouldn’t believe. It’s witty, smart, and has absolutely no connection to real life whatsoever. Just makes fun of it all. Love it. Gorillas. In. The. Mist.
The mist of her beauty had clouded my eyes. I couldn’t see anymore, the fog had gotten to thick and there was no where to run to. I had to face it, I had to take it, it was my destiny.
A frozen kiss clouding up my window. I breathe on to evaporate; it comes back worse. I write my name in the misted pane. Cool steam. It blurs the air, takes back breath and chokes it. It hangs like a hundred kept tears, hidden away, murmured back into eyes, into some vague vapour circling inside, into the heart, cloudy and opaque with longing.
In the mist I see nothing but my tears all of my fears I am alone…..in the mist.
The mist in the air was thick, and our vision limited, but I’m telling you, we saw what I think had to be bigfoot. If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I could have sworn the animal resembled my mother in law.
She stumbled through the mist, desperate to get away from him. But to no avail.
It all comes together at once, emerging from the mist of the city. We all think sometimes that the world would go on, but when every eye was watching the last moment in time, we had no fear. Rather, we felt relieved. Even those who didn’t know God felt the purity to which all was returning.
It all comes together at once, emerging from the mist of the city. We all think sometimes that the world would go on, but we ever eye was watching the last moment in time, we had no fear. Rather, we felt relieved. Even those who didn’t know God felt the purity to which all was returning.
The mist settles and here I am, lost again.
I look around and I try and find her again. I know I’ve seen her again, but things are different now. I still feel a jump, a little kick, but it’s not like before. I know my heart will always love her somehow, just not like before.
That mist has settled, we are no longer whom we were.
the first thing you see when you approach the clearing that leads to the canyon, is a display of butterfly wings that create a psychedelic mist that projects a luminescence from the backdrop of the morning sun.
The mist was just enough to get us damp as we walked through the woods. It gave an ethereal look to the trees as the sun tried to shine through.
There is no mist anymore. Having to get out is the only thing there is. It was so beautiful how he said, I’m gone, good bye. Carry me away.
The Mists of Avalon was one of my favorite books. I enjoyed the re-telling of the Arthurian legend and most everything else about the book. I did not like her other books as well. Now that I am older I don’t know what my reaction to the book would be. Tastes change with age.
the slick blown mist wrapped around the crazy dozing bum
Through the mist i could just make out the broader details. I knew it was a woman, with long flowing hair. The curves of her hips and full bust told me so. Other than her silhouette all i could see were two piercing green eyes. Who was she? Why had she called me here?
The early morning mist was thick and clung to Andrea’s skin making it slick and damp. The early morning run was proving to be more laborious than she had anticipated as she climbed steadily up the hill.
“In the mist… Mist? What mist am I talking about? I do not understand. Let me check the dictionary… Oh. I meant midst. Okay in the midst of all this confusion… No, that did not seem appropriate. I have to find a better word…”
The time came for him to return but he had no one to take him. The mist prevented his sight line, and when he spoke everything vanished in his mind.
and it rolled in with no warning
taking everything and hiding it
taking the familiar and erasing it
making me the animal
and her the saint
when that’s not at all how i remember it
but it’s hard to see now.
Mist, that I like. When there is a mist, I can see more correctly.
Do you know why? It’s because I try to do so.
Because of the mist.
the mist.
Everything is misty at the moment. My mind is such a blur. I don’t know how to see the light again. Oh please! I need clarity…
Es riecht nach Mist. nach faulem Stroh, Kuhfladen, Pisse. Der hahn sitzt auf dem Haufen, der eben aus dem Stall gehoben wurde und kräht. Kratzig und müde. Der Mist stinkt. Der Gestank brennt in den Augen, es ist zu heiß. Die Augen tränen, Salz brennt auf der Haut. Mir wird schlecht, der Mist stinkt, der Gestank brennt in den Augen, die Augen tränen, mir wird schlecht. So ein Mist.
In the mist of all the confusion, we learned that the driver of the car involved in the accident , was trying to flee the scene of the incident and struck an oncoming vehicle.
she came like the mist in the night. subtle, quiet, without disturbing anything or anyone…but we all knew she was there. like the mist.
everything is mist right now, no path is clear, all is ambiguous, there is nothing and no one in life to trust or understand and no option but to surrender to being in the fog
i can only think of the hidden village of the mist right now. and probably the mist that will form after the buckets of rain stop pouring. Misty from pokemon is pretty cool