Books in the Fog

I only read fiction. It's not a policy or something. I have tried reading non-fiction but I wasn't able to and I am not proud of it. But I am happy with reading fiction and I read it for a million reasons. Just talking about one for now, teleportation. Transporting yourself into a different world, at a different time, using a good story and the power of your mind, except there is no transfer of matter involved here.
I am sitting right here in a bus and yet I am in the middle of a crowded Tokyo slum or in the bush in Africa or on a lonely shore in cold British Columbia or on the streets of London during the colonial times. 
You get a similar surreal feeling when you walk around on a foggy day. The very streets you knew so well are suddenly transformed one morning into a different dreamland. You may wonder when you wake up and look outside your window, if you are still asleep and in a dream. Reading on a foggy day can be even more surreal. Like you are floating around on a cloud and creating worlds out of thin air, I mean thick air!

One foggy day, I was on the bus to work, sitting by the window where I always sit and began reading. The window frosted, by the fog and the cold. The story took me into a different world and I floated around in this bright red box over clouds that I could mix and mash like play dough and jump across continents and time, to remote corners of the world and create a visual of the story I was inside. When I woke up from the spell, it was just before my stop but it took me a few seconds to recollect where I was and what I was doing.



I so wish that bus rides on forever and the story never ends.
Some day I should read in park when it is foggy. Could be interesting.

PS: reading A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki. A wonderful book. A review soon, when I finish.

PPS: The picture is from this blogpost and one of the many pictures taken by one of the many dreams in this city (not by me). Go to the link to see more images. There are almost psychedelic.

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