25 minutes before the fog

For surreal reasons my hand did slide toward the camera, as the lens captured this instant at Parque Begoña, in Gijón.

That intriguing family walked by, as I observed them with tears in my eyes that couldn't stop flowing, and I was hidden, and I was all the Tuesdays that couldn't be


-hidden, or perhaps too exposed-

exposed to the gray air of an afternoon turning into evening, slowly, 25 minutes before the fog would bury the scene, and my own ghosts into a bigger ghost

it self.