For the last week the fog has propelled in from the Pacific and hovered along the coast. It wafts up our street enshrouding us in a dreamlike state. It enlivens my morning run with a supernatural quality and it encourages me to sit with a book by candlelight, savoring a pot of honey vanilla tea on the windowsill throughout the afternoon. When darkness comes and we walk Rave, the hazy effect is at its finest. We are completely alone and we focus on the incantation of the waves, the occasional bellowing foghorn, and the sea lions' windblown barks from a buoy where they gather in the distance. In the night along the shore I forget the city lights behind us. I want to carry our bed to the sand, close my eyes in the mist, and see where the waves have carried us by morning.