Amazing sight at the river this morning. Unseasonably — and unreasonably — warm air over cold water produced a high fog bank. When I got down there the fog was white, and extended so high from the surface of the water that the Jersey shoreline and the bottom half of the towers had disappeared. The ferry terminal was gone, all but the spire. The buildings looked like they were only their top halves and they stood on a white mesa about twenty feet high. I watched for a few minutes and then the whole fog bank started flowing toward me. It moved swiftly, almost menacing. Soon, because it was so much closer, the buildings and the spire and the piling field just disappeared and white turned to gray. Then fog surrounded me. I could see clearly the railing I leaned on and the tree beside me; to the right and left the trees and railing faded out as the fog curled in over the walkway. I heard joggers — very few of them — before I saw them, followed their progress, saw them disappear into the fog. As it slid up the streets it began to dissipate. By the time I left the river, the far shore was coming into view again.
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